Gamera The Defender
by JJ Rust
Summary: North Korea's ruler has a new weapon . . . a giant monster!  And he uses it to spearhead an invasion of South Korea.  Can Gamera and a team of Navy SEALs stop the madman and the monster from laying waste to an entire nation?
1. Chapter 1

_20 miles north of Kaesong, Democratic People's Republic of Korea, aka North Korea._

Uldis Barznav had to be the only person in the entire base not panicking.

The tall, gray-haired man with a bulging belly strode through the underground corridors smiling in spite of himself. Soldiers and technicians and support staff polished tables and doorknobs, scrubbed windows, and straightened the colorful, supposedly inspirational portraits of the country's Great Leader and his late father, the Eternal President. All of them wore hurried, tense looks. Even Major General Sang, the base commander, had a noticeable sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead.

As much as he enjoyed this spectacle, Barznav supposed he couldn't blame them. The man coming here had the power of life and death over all of them. Technicians and maintenance personnel and security guards, and even generals, were all easily replaceable.

The same could not be said of Uldis Barznav. He was the most indispensable man in the entire country, save for the Great Leader.

_Scratch that. _His value surpassed even that of the Great Leader. Any half-wit could sit behind a desk in P'yongyang and run this dreary, militaristic, famine-stricken nation. Only one man in the entire world could do the things he did. And if the Great Leader wanted his plans to succeed, he wouldn't be so foolish as to stand Uldis Barznav in front of a firing squad because he got a little irritated.

Barznav made his way to a paved tunnel that led to the surface. An honor guard in brown dress uniforms with AK-74 rifles tipped with bayonets stood off to the side.

"Doctor." A stocky man with a weathered face nodded to him. Like the honor guard, he also wore a brown dress uniform, though a myriad of colorful ribbons adorned his left breast.

"General." Barznav nodded back to General Sang as he sidled up next to him. Neither man spoke, their gazes aimed toward the other end of the tunnel. Barznav rocked back and forth on his heels, wishing their distinguished visitor would get here already.

He didn't have to wait long. Barely ten minutes after he joined General Sang, a circle of light formed at the end of the tunnel as the entrance opened. Within seconds, two limousines appeared.

The honor guard snapped to attention. General Sang stood ramrod straight.

Barznav clasped his hands behind his back, trying not to look too bored.

The limousines rolled to a stop. The doors of the first one flung open. Uniformed bodyguards sprang out, clutching Type 56 assault rifles. They formed a cordon around the second limo, whose driver exited, stepped over to the rear door, and opened it.

And there he was, the short, paunchy man with puffed up black hair and glasses. The Great Leader of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. The General Secretary of the Workers' Party of Korea. The Supreme Commander of the Korean People's Army. The Invincible and Iron-willed Commander, the Glorious General Who Descended From Heaven, the Bright Sun of the 21st Century, the Shining Star of Paektu Mountain, and the numerous other ridiculous titles the WPK'S Central Committee created for him.

Barznav had his own title for North Korea's ruler. "The Midget." Not that he would call him that to his face. As indispensable as he was, even he knew there were lines he couldn't cross, especially with the man who gave him all the money and resources, and all the pretty young girls, he asked for.

"Most Beloved and Respected General." Sang saluted as the Great Leader approached them. "Welcome. We are all honored to be in your presence."

"Thank you, General." The Great Leader's head whipped toward Barznav. "Is it ready?"

"Yes, Great Leader. All our tests have been completed successfully. We can commit it to your operation whenever you wish it to begin."

"Our forces are marshalling near the border as we speak. Everything should be in place in another two weeks. Now, take me to it." An anxious look came over the Great Leader's fleshy face. "I enjoy looking at it."

"Of course, Great Leader. This way."

Barznav took the lead, with "The Midget," General Sang and the heavily armed bodyguards in tow.

"You are certain it will not attack our soldiers?" inquired the Great Leader.

"We exposed it to the People's troops and tanks on numerous occasions. Every time, it obeyed our command and did not attack them."

"That is good to hear. And it is strong? It can withstand any attack the capitalists in the south and their Imperialist American allies can launch against it?"

"We have shot at it with tanks, artillery, missiles, and even detonated several 250-kilogram bombs around it. It emerged unscathed."

"And its control device?"

"We have it implanted deep in the ear canal. It is as well protected as can be."

The Great Leader barked out a laugh. "Good. Good. Then the invasion shall go forth as planned. My father's dream shall finally be realized. Korea will be united. I will even go beyond my father's dream. We shall decimate Japan, make them pay for all the atrocities they visited upon us. Then we shall go across the Pacific and turn America into ash and rubble. It will be the dawn of a new Korean Empire, an empire none shall challenge."

Barznav glanced behind him. "The Midget" smiled and puffed out his chest. "Two weeks, Doctor. In two weeks, we shall change the world."

He nodded without a word. "The Midget" could change the world all he wanted. Barznav didn't care. He just wanted to show everyone that he, the son of a minor government functionary from Latvia, could achieve what most would consider impossible.

**XXXXX**

Jim Rice spun in all directions. Darkness surrounded him. His breathing increased, as did his heartbeat. He had to find a way out.

A light caught his eye. He snapped his head to the right. The glow faded. He thought it looked like a teardrop, but he couldn't be sure.

More flashes erupted around him. Not flashes. Fire. Gigantic balls of fire. Rice held his breath, praying none of the fireballs struck him.

A noise arose from somewhere. A banshee-like wail of anger, or triumph, or both.

Where was it? What was it?

The firestorm intensified. Rice wanted to get out of here, to –

The world shook.

"Commander. Commander. Wakey-wakey time."

Rice's eyes flickered open. A stoic, black face hovered near his.

"Uh . . . thanks, Chief."

Senior Chief Hank Warthan nodded at him. "The pilot just started his descent into Seoul. I figured I better start waking everyone up."

Rice checked around the interior of the C-2 Greyhound transport plane. The rest of his SEAL team was sacked out in the rectangular, blue-padded seats. He rose to his feet and looked at his watch. Roughly 90 minutes had passed since they launched off the carrier _USS George Washington._

He and Senior Chief Warthan went down the aisle, slapping the other SEALs on the shoulder to wake them.

"Damn, Commander." A barrel-chested man with fair hair rubbed his face. "You interrupted an awesome dream with me and Natalie Portman."

"At least you had a better dream than I did, Candaele," Rice said to the team's SAW gunner.

"What was your dream?"

The corners of Rice's mouth twisted. "I don't know. But I know Natalie Portman wasn't in it."

Petty Officer 2nd Class Brian Candaele chuckled as Rice headed back to his seat. The dream played in his mind over and over again. It wasn't the first time he had this strange, confusing dream. At first he tried to dismiss it. He'd never been too concerned about his dreams, or what meaning they may have. Some dreams were just so far out there who could figure out what they meant.

But this recurring dream, he kept thinking about it more than usual. A couple days ago, he actually considered keeping a dream journal, like his wife Rita. _Yeah, right._ He could only imagine what would happen if someone got their hands on it. Probably a psych eval. Probably removal from the field.

No way would he risk that. Therefore, no way would he keep a dream journal.

Fifteen minutes later, the C-2's wheels thumped down on the runway of the K-16 Air Base. When the plane finally stopped, the rear ramp lowered, letting in sunlight and warm air. Rice stood back and watched his team grab their gear and walk past him. Senior Chief Warthan went by first, followed by Candaele. Next came the lanky Felix Soto, their communications and tech specialist. He was followed by the tall, lean Stuart Engle, the corpsman, and finally the team sniper Mongkut, the son of Thai immigrants. Good men, all of them. They'd already been through all kinds of crap together in Afghanistan and Somalia.

The way things were going, they would likely be adding Korea to their list of battles.

The thought of war on the peninsula forced thoughts of his weird-ass dreams from his mind. He had more important things to focus on.

Rice picked up his gear and strode off the plane. He barely set foot off the ramp when a pair of boxy Humvees drove up to him and his team. A young South Korean soldier emerged out the driver's side of each vehicle. The one in the lead vehicle, who couldn't have been older than twenty, marched up to him and saluted.

"Lieutenant Commander Rice?"

"That's me."

"I am Corporal Young-Jae. I have been ordered to transport you and your men to SOCKOR Headquarters to meet with Captain Unser."

"Hey, what'd ya know?" Candaele smiled. "We rate our own limos. I feel special."

"Just don't expect a fully stocked bar in the back." Rice turned back to Young-Jae. "Thanks for the lift, Corporal."

"Yes, Sir."

They stowed their gear in the Humvees and got in. Rice gazed out the window, taking in the skyscrapers and tightly bunched buildings that stretched for miles and miles. He bit his lip. Ten million people lived in the capital of the Republic of Korea, aka South Korea, a capital that sat little more than thirty miles from the most heavily militarized border in the world. If the crazy Umpa-Lumpa with the bad hairdo decided to send his million-man army across the Demilitarized Zone . . .

Rice's stomach quivered as they crossed the Han River. He hoped this was just more bluster from the so-called Great Leader, that he wouldn't actually be stupid enough to go to war with the ROK, and by default the US. If not, he didn't even want to think of the suffering the people of this city would experience.

When they reached Camp Kim across the river, their Korean drivers took them to their temporary quarters, a Quonset hut that may have been here since the 1953 cease-fire. They dropped off their gear, got back into the Humvees, and were driven to a bland beige building. The headquarters for SOCKOR, Special Operations Command, Korea. Corporal Young-Jae escorted them inside and to a conference room on the second floor.

"Captain Unser," Young-Jae announced. "I have brought Lieutenant Commader Rice's SEAL team as you ordered."

Rice looked to the head of the wooden conference table. A portly, balding man with glasses and wearing a white US Navy uniform stood behind a chair. Captain Unser, obviously. Two other people were in the room with him, both Korean, both dressed in green-black-brown Battle Dress Uniforms. One looked to be in his early forties, though trimmer than Unser. The other had a hawkish face, a firm build and hair shaved so close he could be considered bald. The guy had the air of someone who worked in the field and not behind a desk.

"Thank you, Corporal," said Unser. "You may go."

"Sir!" Young-Jae marched out of the room.

"Lieutenant Commander." Unser walked around the table and shook his hand. "Captain Unser, head of intelligence for US Naval Forces, Korea. Pleased to meet you."

"Thank you, Sir." Rice couldn't safely say whether or not he was pleased to meet Unser. He'd always been wary of spooks. For him, they fell into three categories; the good ones, the ones too embarrassed or too prideful to admit what they didn't know, and the ones who thought they knew everything and couldn't be wrong about anything. It was that third type that tended to get SEALs killed.

"So it's Jim Rice, huh?" Unser inquired.

"Yes, Sir."

"Any relation to the baseball player?" Unser chuckled at his own joke.

Rice managed not to role his eyes. Like he'd never heard that one before. "No, Sir." _Obviously not, since I'm white and the other Jim Rice is black. _"Both my parents are Red Sox fans, and they both loved Jim Rice back in the day."

"Ah." Unser nodded before turning to the Koreans. "Let me introduce Commander Whan." He indicated to the older Korean. "He's with the Defense Security Command." His hand then moved toward the hawkish Korean. "And this is Lieutenant Myung-Dae, Naval Special Warfare Brigade. He'll be your liaison while your team is in-country, and will be accompanying you on your missions."

Rice's jaw tightened as Myung-Dae saluted him.

"I look forward to working with you and your team, Lieutenant Commander."

"Mm-hmm." Rice returned the salute, sensing lines of annoyance etching into his face. _Great. Just what I need. A new guy on the team when we're on the brink of war._

Not that he had anything against the Naval Special Warfare Brigade, better known as the South Korean Navy SEALs. He'd cross-trained with plenty of them in the past. They were exceptional, tough-ass warriors. He had no problem going into battle with them.

At least, the ones he knew. And he didn't know Myung-Dae. Obviously he had to be a good warrior to be a SEAL. But Rice had no clue as to the man's experience, personality, temperament, strengths and weaknesses. Had he ever been under fire? How would he react to it? Those sorts of unknowns could jeopardize the lives of every man on the team.

Unser waved them to be seated. He then picked up a remote control and activated a large TV screen at the front of the room. A computer animated map of the Korean peninsula appeared. "I'm sure you're all aware that for the past two weeks, the North Koreans have been massing troops, armor and artillery near the Demilitarized Zone. The bulk of those forces, no surprise, are concentrated here on the western part of the peninsula, within easy striking distance of Seoul. Commander Whan."

The ROK intelligence officer rose as Unser tapped a button. The image magnified to show the shoreline from Suwan to Yonan on the other side of the DMZ.

"While our respective armies marshal along the border to counter the North," Whan began, "Defense Security Command is greatly concerned about enemy commandos and spies being inserted by boat or midget submarine near along this stretch of the coast." He ran a finger from Seoul south to the T'aean Haean National Park. "Any infiltrators will have easy access to Seoul, Inchon and Suwan, where they can gather intelligence or commit acts of sabotage to disrupt our national defense efforts. This must be prevented. Therefore, Lieutenant Commander Rice, your SEAL team shall be positioned here . . ." He took the remote from Unser. Seconds later, a jagged-looking piece of the Korean coast filled the screen. At the bottom several windows appeared showing photographs of a small beachline and the shrubbery bordering it from various angles. "Ten miles southwest of Anyang. This area is a known infiltration point for North Korean commando forces."

"Then why would they use it?" Rice asked.

Whan looked stunned by the question. A perplexed look came over Unser's face. "Pardon, Commander?"

"Well, I mean, if we know the North Koreans like to use this place to sneak into this country, don't you think they know that we know?"

Unser and Whan exchanged glances, like they didn't know what to make of it. Rice thought he saw Myung-Dae raise an eyebrow.

He waited for either intelligence officer to say something. Five seconds passed. Ten seconds. Still the two remained silent. Rice groaned and continued. "Let's assume this is the real deal and we're going to war. Recon will become all-important to the North Koreans, so will having commandos in place to ambush convoys or blow up bridges or sever lines of communication. You think they'll want to risk those guys getting captured before their army storms across the border? They'll probably look for new landing sites, places they've never used before. Hell, they probably scouted them out months ago."

"Not all areas of the Korean coastline are easily accessible by boat or midget submarine," Whan countered. "Plus the North will want to land any infiltrators as close to Seoul as possible. This small stretch of beach is idle for that."

"If possible," Unser spoke up. "Capture any infiltrators you come across. The information we glean from them could be invaluable should war break out."

"Sure, if they actually use this place to drop-off anybody."

Unser sighed loudly. "Commander, this is the mission that has been assigned to you by SOCKOR operations, and it is an important operation, and you will carry it out without further complaint. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Rice did nothing to hide the disdain in his tone, wondering if Unser was sharp enough to pick it up. He doubted it. The captain seemed living proof that military intelligence was indeed an oxymoron.

The briefing continued, with Rice and his team learning the specs of the vessels the North normally used for infiltration missions, the small arms commonly used by their commandos and spies, and specific terrain features of their area of operations. When they were finished, Unser ordered them to get some chow and rack time. "You'll be deploying at 2100 hours."

The SEALs headed back outside, with Lieutenant Myung-Dae added to the group. Their ROK drivers and Humvees were waiting for them and took them to the mess hall. Since dinner wouldn't be for another few hours, all the cooks had to offer were cold sandwiches and cold French Fries. _Better than nothing, _Rice thought. At least they had a frozen yogurt dispenser. Even military cooks couldn't screw up frozen yogurt.

Mealtime also gave them a chance to get to know Myung-Dae a little better. He hailed from Sach'on on the southern coast, had a teenage sister, and was a very good baseball player in high school, to the point professional scouts had looked at him.

Myung-Dae had been a South Korean SEAL for two years. _So he's not a newbie. Well, that's good. _As for his experience, all he would say was he'd had some, "interesting times." Rice wished Myung-Dae would give some details, but in the shadowy world of special operations, much of what they did was top secret.

As they headed back to the Humvees, Myung-Dae maneuvered himself alongside Rice. "I believe you are right."

He turned to the Korean. "About what?"

"Our mission. I do not believe the North will use that beach to land infiltrators. As you said, they must know that we know about it."

"So what would you do, Lieutenant?"

"Patrol a larger stretch of the coastline in vehicles, perhaps ATVs. They can go places Humvees cannot. Along with intercepting any infiltrators we may come across, we can also identify other possible landing sites the North may use."

Rice raised his eyebrows, then nodded. "Exactly what I would do, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Sir."

A smile flickered across Rice's mouth. Myung-Dae was sharp, no doubt about it. Maybe he would work out with his team.

They boarded the Humvees and headed back to the Quonset hut. Rice stripped down to his underwear. As he laid down on his cot, he glanced down at the hook-shaped stone pendant he wore. His good luck charm. Or more accurately, the good luck charm his wife had given him the night he proposed to her.

He rested his hand over it as he closed his eyes, picturing Rita with her shapely body, long, curled jet black hair, and regal Latina features. He clenched the pendant tighter, hoping that Great Leader Umpa-Lumpa came to what little senses he had and pulled back his forces. There would be no war, and he could go back to Coronado and spend some much needed time with his wife.

Rice held the image of Rita's beautiful face in his mind's eye as he drifted off to sleep.

He found himself walking the beach at Coronado, Rita by his side. They held hands as they continued down the surf. Then Rice stopped and got on one knee, holding up a box containing a glittering ring. Rita beamed as tears ran down her cheeks. Just as he slipped the ring on her finger, her foot twitched. She bent down and picked up a hook-shaped rook.

"That's a weird looking thing," he said.

"I think it's beautiful." Rita rolled it around in her hand as she examined it. Her gaze returned to him. "You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna make this into a necklace and give it to you. It can be your good luck charm."

"C'mon, hon. You know I don't believe -"

"Jim, the minute after you propose to me, this . . . unique stone happens to wash up on the beach and we find it. There's something . . . special about it, I know it. Please."

All he could do was smile and nod. What else could he do? The stone meant something to Rita. Besides, it would be like having a piece of her with him whenever he deployed.

Suddenly the beach, and Rita, vanished, replaced by inky blackness.

"Rita?" He jumped to his feet. "Rita! Where are you?"

Fireballs streaked across the sky. Rice's head snapped up. _Not again._

A mighty roar drilled into his ears, so loud it hurt. He grimaced and sank to his knees.

"Wake up! Everyone! You must wake up!"

Rice opened his eyes and found himself back in the darkened Quonset hut.

"What the hell, man?" Candaele groused. "I'm trying to sleep here."

Rice sat up in his cot and looked to the figure standing in the doorway.

"Corporal Young-Jae? What's going on?"

"Forgive me, Sir, but you all must wake up. The North is attacking all across the Demilitarized Zone. We are at war."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	2. Chapter 2

"Gimmie a SITREP, people." General Michael Taylor, commander of US Forces Korea and Combined Forces Command, finished buttoning his tunic as he strode into the Joint Operations Center. Two Green Beret bodyguards toting M-4 rifles trailed him.

"We have a massive artillery barrage all along the DMZ," reported Major General Suk, the head of operations for CFC.

Taylor nodded, glancing around the rows of consoles and the video monitors on the wall. He caught his tall, broad-shouldered reflection in one of the screens, and studied his compact, dark face. No visible sign of worry, thank God. He couldn't afford to look scared, though inside he was.

Hell, everyone was probably scared right not. If they weren't, they were damn fools.

"Any word on North Korean troop movement?"

"No." Suk shook his head. "They are staying on their side of the border, for now."

"That won't last long."

"General," a female US Air Force lieutenant called out from the middle row of consoles. "Global Hawk is on station forty thousand feet above the DMZ's western sector. Feed coming in."

"Put it on the main screen."

"Yes, Sir."

A phosphorescent green image of a large field appeared, filled with flashing white blobs. Artillery fire. A lot of artillery fire. Taylor scrunched his face and leaned forward, gazing at an area near the top of the screen. Rows and rows of squat shapes sat behind the artillery. Tanks and armored personnel carriers. Lots of tanks and armored personnel carriers. Any minute he expected those vehicles to start moving toward the DMZ, then roll the thirty or forty miles to Seoul.

Taylor turned around and spotted the wiry, dark-haired figure of General Pendelli, the head of US Air Forces Korea. "Status of North Korean air force."

"The AWACS shows more than one hundred-fifty enemy aircraft of all types in the air. None of them have come within twenty miles of the DMZ."

"Naval activity?"

"No vessels from the North have penetrated the Republic's territorial waters," said Suk.

"What about acts of sabotage or assassination?"

"I have checked with civil defense and the National Police Agency. No such incidents have been reported."

"And your president?" Taylor asked Suk.

"He is currently en route to a command bunker outside the city."

Taylor nodded slowly. Worry slithered through him. This wasn't like any scenario they had studied for how the North would invade the South. Everyone expected commando attacks across the country. Bridges and power stations and communications towers blown, political and military leaders assassinated. Mass confusion in the opening hours of the war.

But that hadn't happened. Nor had any attempted aerial attacks on South Korean cities and military bases, or any shore bombardment by North Korean vessels. Taylor and his subordinates all expected the Great Leader to throw everything they had at the ROK. The North had to knock them for a loop and drive down the peninsula as quickly as possible before US reinforcements arrived from Japan and stateside.

Yet for now, they seemed content to just sit back and lob shells at them.

_Well, if you idiots are just gonna sit there and make yourselves juicy targets, that's fine by me."_

"All right, let's get some planes over there and knock out that artillery and armor."

"We have three F-16 squadrons en route to the western sector," Pendelli reported. "Two ROK and one US."

"Good." Taylor nodded. "Contact the Navy. I want _Washington's _F/A-18s in the air, and the cruisers, destroyers and submarines to launch cruise missiles at their designated command and control targets."

"Yes, Sir," replied a US Navy Commander at one of the consoles.

"Get the Second US Infantry Division and the ROK's Sixth Corps moving toward the DMZ. I want them in position to blunt any advance the North Koreans make."

"I will see to it, Sir," said Suk.

For the next five minutes, Taylor issued one order after another while checking the monitors. Some of them showed news feeds from American and South Korean networks. Most of reporters on camera crouched in trenches while shells exploded around them. The image from the Global Hawk continued to show North Korean artillery firing while the tanks and APCs stayed put.

_They should be moving by now._ Taylor wanted to be happy the North Koreans kept their armored forces out in the open, making them easy pickings for the approaching F-16s. But a paranoid voice whispered in the back of his head.

"_They're up to something."_

But what? Why hold back? It didn't make sense.

He checked all the video monitors, all the radar images from the AWACS and Joint STARS surveillance planes and enemy comm traffic intercepted by signals intelligence. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary . . . save for the fact North Korea had launched their biggest attack on their southern neighbor since the cease-fire of 1953.

"General Taylor. Time on Target for F-16s in western sector, three minutes."

"Thank you, General Pendelli." Taylor's face stiffened as he stared at the main screen, waiting for the F-16s to begin their attack, praying his paranoia was unwarranted.

**XXXXX**

"Firebird Flight. Begin descent. Stay within assigned sectors."

Major Mal-Chin heard a chorus of "Yes, Sirs" as his F-16 neared the DMZ. Fiery flashes lit the darkened horizon. Artillery fire. He couldn't help but glance out the side of his jet's teardrop canopy, thinking of the Koreans and Americans in those trenches being pounded by enemy shells.

_Fear not. It will stop soon. We will make sure of it._

Mal-Chin and his flight rocketed over the DMZ. He activated the infra-red sensor of his LANTIRN pod, which showed a bright green image of the landscape below him.

A steady beeping filled the cockpit. Mal-Chin tensed and checked his radar warning receiver.

"Active search radar! Straight Flush! Straight Flush!" he called out the radar's NATO codename. It was probably linked to an SA-6 Gainful, an older surface-to-air missile, but no less deadly.

"Firebird Ten. Source acquired. Engaging."

Seconds later a bright contrail tore through the night sky. A HARM anti-radar missile launched by Lieutenant Wook, who flew one of two F-16s assigned to Wild Weasel duty.

In the distance, two trails of fire rose from the ground, climbing higher and higher into the night sky.

"Dump chaff!" Mal-Chin ordered. "Stay in formation!"

His thumb mashed down on the chaff button of his HOTAS control on the left side of the cockpit. He kept the F-16's pointy nose aimed right at the North Korean artillery and armored formation. So did the other fighters in his squadron.

Mal-Chin's jaw clenched as he watched the SA-6s arc over and start toward them. His eyes flickered to the white trail left by the HARM.

_Hurry . . . Hurry._

The contrail connected with the ground. A bright orange flash erupted

He continued to dump chaff from the dispensers. Clouds of aluminum strips formed behind the F-16s.

Sweat dampened his forehead as the enemy SAMs drew closer, closer . . .

And shot over the squadron. With their ground radar a smoldering wreck, there was nothing to guide them.

The North Koreans switched on another Straight Flush radar. Wook blasted that one to bits before any missiles could be launched.

Three miles out, Mal-Chin could make out individual gun emplacements on his LANTIRN sensor. Towed artillery. No way could they escape in time.

He settled his targeting pipper over a concentration of guns and thumbed the fire button. The F-16 jumped several feet as four Rockeye II cluster bombs fell away from the jet.

Mal-Chin waited about ten seconds before he banked to the left. A snaking trail of explosions that resembled fireworks tore through the North Korean batteries. Thousands of pieces of armor-piercing shrapnel from the tiny bomblets would be slicing through the air, ripping apart both metal and flesh, and silencing many of the guns that threatened his fellow Koreans and their American allies.

The other F-16s unloaded their Rockeyes. More explosions consumed the North Korean positions.

Mal-Chin and the other pilots wheeled around, looking to engage the tanks with their Maverick missiles.

"Firebird Flight, Sunstroke Four, be advised," a new voice stated over his headphones. An American from the orbiting AWACS early-warning plane. "Bandits inbound to your position. Six, repeat, six MiG-21s."

"Acknowledged, Sunstroke," Mal-Chin replied. "Firebird Twelve through Sixteen, engage inbound MiGs."

"Engaging MiGs," replied Captain Yan in Firebird 12. "AMRAAMs armed . . . targets locked . . . fir-"

Something flashed in the night sky. Mal-Chin's vision went white. He turned away and blinked. The radio exploded with chatter.

"What was that?"

"I can't see!"

"Is that a missile?"

"Firebird Thirteen is -"

Mal-Chin blinked repeatedly. White and yellow dots danced before his eyes. He checked all around him.

The bright streak was still there, cutting through the night sky. It wasn't a missile. It looked like some sort of beam.

Something burst to his right. He whipped his head around. Horror stabbed his chest as he watched an F-16 fireball. Another plane exploded. Another. Another.

"Where is it coming from?"

"Firebird Six! Firebird Six! Come in! Come in, dammit!"

"Maintain radio discipline!" Mal-Chin ordered. "Drop to the deck! Drop to -"

A bright glow lit up his cockpit. He looked up.

Mal-Chin felt intense heat. Then a quake. Then nothing.

**XXXXX**

"Everybody calm down, dammit!" Taylor bellowed. The panicked, confused voices that had echoed through the JOC faded. "We can't afford to fall apart right now. Contact whoever you need to and find out what the hell just happened."

He exhaled slowly, trying to push down his own swelling panic. They'd just lost an entire squadron of South Korean F-16s, and no idea how.

"We've got more planes down!" Pendelli blurted. "It's the American F-16s."

"I'm getting reports of white flashes in the sky," said the female lieutenant.

"Missiles?" Taylor asked.

"I don't think so. I'm tasking the Global Hawk to investigate."

Taylor looked up to the wall, his eyes shifting between the Global Hawk image and the radar display from the AWACS. The latter showed digital images representing US and ROK F-16s flickering and vanishing. Worry and anger smashed together inside him. They were losing their air support for the entire western sector. What the hell was going on out there? Why the hell didn't anyone here know? He fought the urge to start yelling. These were good people in the JOC. They'd get the answers, and get them soon.

_They'd better._

A white beam flashed across the image from the Global Hawk. Taylor tilted his head. Was that a laser? The North Koreans did possess weaponized lasers designed to blind troops and scramble electronics, not to blow planes out of the sky. How the hell did they get their hands on something like that?

The Global Hawk's camera zoomed in. Taylor's brow furrowed. There was some kind of shape. Something big. Something that moved.

"Oh my God," gasped the lieutenant.

As much as he prided himself on remaining in control while everything around him went to hell, Taylor couldn't keep his jaw from dropping and his eyes from bulging.

He was staring at a monster. An honest-to-God giant monster. The thing had the body of an armadillo lizard and the head of a Triceratops, only the horns jutting from its frill were longer. Shock froze him as he watched those horns glow and fire a laser beam into the air. He forced his eyes to shift toward the AWACS display.

More F-16s disappeared.

_What is it? Where did it come from?_

Taylor shook his head. _Get it together, dammit!_

"Pendelli. Do we have any more planes headed toward the DMZ's western sector?"

"Yes, Sir. A squadron of ROK Phantoms, loaded for ground attack."

"Retask those Phantoms. Tell them to engage that . . . monster. And warn them about that laser. Tell them they better attack from the rear."

"Yes, General."

Taylor then turned to Suk. "Get on the horn to our ground forces there. Tell them to hold their positions." He figured many of the troops along the border might be tempted to bolt at the sight of a laser-capable monster. "The North Koreans may take advantage of this to come across the DMZ."

"Yes, Sir."

A minute later, Taylor wondered if the order he gave Suk would do any good. The monster's laser cut a path of destruction along the southern side of the DMZ. His throat tightened, thinking of the hundreds of troops who'd just been incinerated.

Little bulky objects streaked into view. The South Korean F-4 Phantoms. Taylor shook his head. _Those damn jets are older than I am._

For now, though, they were all they had to try and stop this monster.

Black dots fell toward the monster. Bombs. Taylor's chest swelled with hope as white flashes appeared on and around the monster. It jerked and opened a maw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Taylor unconsciously stepped closer to the monitor.

_Die. Die, damn you._

The monster kept stomping toward the DMZ.

Tremors went through Taylor's legs. All those bombs and they didn't even scratch it. This can't be possible.  
>The Phantoms pressed on with their attack. More bombs crashed against the monster. Contrails from missiles and unguided rockets struck its hide and exploded.<p>

It did not go down.

More lasers shot from the monster's horns. Half-a-dozen Phantoms went down in less than a minute.

The monster suddenly veered right and stomped parallel to the DMZ. Tiny pinpricks of light appeared around its feet. Mines detonating.

_It's like it's doing it on purpose. But that . . . _Taylor's jaw trembled. No, it couldn't be. That was impossible.

"General Taylor," said Suk. "We have a report from the Joint STARS. North Korean armored and mechanized forces in the western sector have started moving south."

Taylor just stared at the operations chief. He tried to say something, but his brain and mouth were paralyzed by shock.

He managed to tear his gaze from Suk and look up at the main wall monitor. The monster kept stomping along the DMZ, setting off the land mines buried along the southern side.

_Like it's creating a path for the North Koreans._

"My God, are they actually controlling it?" Taylor spoke in a stunned whisper.

"Sir?"

He turned back to Suk. Taylor drew a breath and tightened his face. "I know it sounds outrageous, General, but it looks like that monster's deliberately taking out our mines. The North Koreans are on the move, going toward that monster, not away from it. They saw what it can do. You'd think they'd turn tail and run back to P'yongyang as fast as possible. But they're not. We have to assume the North found someway to control it."

Suk stared at him impassively. Did the man think he'd lost his marbles?

The South Korean general chewed on his lip. He looked at the screen, then back to Taylor. "Perhaps we should contact the Japanese. They have experience dealing with such matters."

"Mm." Taylor thought back to all the incidents that nation went through involving those man-eating bird monsters and the big-ass fire-breathing turtle. "I'll contact their Ministry of Defense. See what they can do to help."

He gazed back at the screen as the monster continued tramping across the DMZ, while North Korean tanks and armored vehicles drew closer to ROK territory. He prayed the Japanese had some idea to stop this creature before it, and the North Korean armed forces, laid waste to this country.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	3. Chapter 3

Rice clenched his teeth to the point he thought he'd crack his molars. His narrowed, burning eyes watched a slender FROG-7 artillery missile soar away from its rectangular, eight-wheeled launcher. Destination, Seoul. So far seven of the ancient Soviet-made missiles had been launched at the ROK capital. Who the hell knew what kind of warheads they had? Maybe conventional high-explosive. Maybe, God forbid, chemical.

And who the hell knew where the damn F/A-18s from _George Washington _were to blow the crap out of these things?

He glanced over at Myung-Dae, concealed in the foliage like the rest of the SEAL team. With his black camo paint, it proved difficult to see the Korean's reaction.

_How would you feel if these guys were lobbing missiles at Washington?_

He'd be pissed off. Pissed off enough to kill.

Myung-Dae had to feel the same way.

Another roar and whoosh grabbed Rice's attention. He watched a trail of fire rise into the sky. Another FROG-7 headed toward Seoul.

He snorted in anger and glared through his night vision goggles at the rest of the valley. Hundreds of vehicles sat on or around the road. Tanks, APCs, self-propelled guns, towed artillery, transport trucks, field cars.

_At least there's no monster here._

Rice still found it hard to believe the North Koreans actually controlled a giant, laser-armed monster. How the hell were they doing it? Where the hell had it come from? Before they headed into the field, Soto had pulled in a radio broadcast from the North, in which the monotone announcer stated, "The capitalists in the South have suffered devastating losses at the hands of the People's Army, aided by the great creature Thulgira, who was summoned from another realm by The Highest Incarnation of Revolutionary Comradely Love, the Great Leader, who uses his divine hand to guide Thulgira in punishing the imperialists who wish to keep the Fatherland divided."

"Man, are people up there really swallowing this bullcrap?" Candaele had said.

"I fear they are," Myung-Dae replied. "Remember, many of the citizens in the North regard their leader as a deity."

Candaele shook his head and turned to Warthan. "What do you think, Senior Chief?"

"I think a crazy person can make folks believe anything he wants, especially if he's got a million-man army backing him up."

Such was the blunt logic of a Senior Chief Petty Officer.

Thankfully, the Great Leader's "divine hand" had guided this Thulgira into The Yellow Sea. Good for the allied ground forces. Bad for the allied naval forces. Over the past couple of hours, Combined Forces Command had lost contact with two South Korean frigates and two patrol boats.

_Three guesses as to what's responsible for that, and the first two don't count._

Still, with Thulgira busy paddling around The Yellow Sea, the U.S. and ROK forces had a chance to keep the North Koreans from reaching Seoul.

_So long as those damn Hornets show –_

"Commander," Soto whispered, the receiver of his radio unit pressed against his ear. "Diamondback Squadron is ten miles out. They want us to laze targets."

"About time." Rice looked to the other SEALs. "Okay, boys. Light 'em up."

They activated their laser designators. Rice aimed his at a FROG-7 launcher in the process of reloading.

A low rumble descended from the sky. It had to be from the F/A-18 Super Hornets. Rice's face stiffened as he watched the green laser light splash off the FROG-7 launcher, visible only through his designator's viewfinder.

Steady booms erupted from the North Korean mechanized division. Laser-like tracers from ZSU-23 mobile anti-aircraft guns tore through the night sky. Rice wondered if their radars picked up the incoming Super Hornets, or if they just threw up lead and hoped to get lucky.

A dark object appeared in his night vision goggles. Something long and slender. It struck the launcher he'd targeted with his laser designator.

A huge fireball blotted out the vehicle and missile. The thunderclap that followed shook the very air.

More Paveway laser-guided bombs fell on the North Koreans. More FROG-7 launchers and command posts exploded. The roar of dozens of motors rose from the enemy division. Tanks and other vehicles started to move, trying to make themselves more difficult targets. Rice caught sight of a T-62 tank plowing into a ZIL-157 truck, practically crushing it. More vehicles collided with one another. Some resulted in nothing more serious than a fender-bender. Other crashes left trucks and APCs twisted wrecks. Rice almost wanted to laugh. The North Koreans were likely to do more damage to themselves than he and his SEALs could mete out.

A few SAMs soared into the sky. Rice didn't notice anything plummeting to the ground trailing smoke and flame. He assumed none of those missiles found their marks.

The last FROG-7 vanished in a fireball. Rice restrained the urge to pump his fist in elation. The FROGs may no longer be threatening the citizens of Seoul, but they, and the rest of the ROK population, were nowhere near out of the woods yet.

He and the other SEALs turned their lasers on the anti-aircraft guns, SAM launchers and radar vehicles. Another rain of Paveways fell from the sky. Flashes of orange and black sprouted throughout the enemy formations. Never-ending thunderclaps permeated the air. Rice felt the vibrations going through his body. Pops and sparks erupted from burning vehicles as cannon shells and warheads cooked off.

Armored and non-armored vehicles raced around the valley. Some drove into the woods, hoping to hide from the US jets. Though with those now hot engines, they couldn't hide from an infra-red sensor. Other North Korean vehicles tried to form up and make for Seoul. A few turned tail and headed north.

Just as the rumbling engines of the F/A-18s faded into the distance, a new set of jet engines thundered over the valley. Rice and the SEALs aimed their lasers at the tanks and self-propelled artillery.

Four ungainly, twin-tailed jets roared into view. A-10 Warthogs. Probably the ugliest planes in the world. Yet Rice would kiss the stubby snout of every one of them if they kept the North Koreans out of Seoul.

Trails of flame flew from under the wings of the A-10s. Maverick missiles followed the lasers fired by the SEALs. Tanks and SPGs transformed into miniature volcanoes. Tracers from heavy machine guns reached up into the night sky.

_Good luck with that, _Rice thought sarcastically. Even if they did manage to hit one of the A-10s, he doubted it would do much good. He'd heard stories from the First Gulf War of those planes taking dozens, even hundreds of hits and still flying.

A deep growl cut through the air. Then another. Rice saw orange flashes spitting from the noses of two A-10s. GAU-8 30mm gatling guns. Hundreds of depleted-uranium slugs tore up North Korean tanks and SPGs. Sparks and flames leapt up from their turrets and hulls.

"Damn, those guns are cool." Candaele smiled. "Why can't we get one of 'em?"

"'Cause the damn thing probably weighs a few hundred pounds," Senior Chief Warthan retorted. "Even Arnold Schwarzenegger couldn't lug that thing around."

Rice smiled as another squadron of jets flew over. ROK F-4 Phantoms. They went after the APCs, tearing into them with Maverick missiles, cluster bombs and 20mm cannons. Pillars of flame, too numerous to count, stretched from one end of the valley to the other.

_And we're not done with you bastards yet._

"Soto. Let the groundpounders know they're up."

"With pleasure, Sir." Soto punched in the proper frequency and raised the receiver to his lips. "Brawler, this is Venom. Brawler, Venom. Olympus. I say again, Olympus."

The A-10s and F-4s climbed into the darkness and vanished. Rice surveyed the hellish scene in the valley below. Machine gunners continued to fire into the air. A few soldiers, officers he guessed, dashed around the burning vehicles, shouting and waving their arms, trying to restore some semblance of order. A few North Koreans crawled out of burning tanks and APCs. Some of those men were burning themselves. Rice grimaced and felt his stomach lurch. Horrible way to die. Part of him wished their vehicles had just completely blown up. It would have been quicker and spared them the agony.

Medics treated the wounded, some of which were loaded into ZIL trucks and sent north, presumably to aid stations. Other soldiers guided surviving vehicles off the road and to the edges of the woods. Damn, there were still a lot of them, even after the bombing.

Rice got worried when he saw tanks and APCs begin to form a perimeter. A few surviving ZSU-23s even joined them, their quad-cannon turrets swiveling back and forth, ready for another air raid.

His heartbeat picked up as he swallowed. _C'mon, guys. Don't let 'em get organized._

"Here they come," Mongkut reported in his low, steady voice.

Rice looked to the south. He let out a long sigh of relief.

Squat forms of M1A1 tanks and M2 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles barreled straight at the North Koreans. Orange plumes burst from the tanks' 120mm guns. Flames ripped through the turrets and chassis of several T-62s and Type 59s. A few others rotated their turrets toward the American armored force and fired. Rice tensed when he saw sparks and orange flashes jump off the M1A1s.

Not a single one stopped.

He smiled. He'd heard M1A1s were armored like a battleship. Now he believed it.

More North Korean tanks exploded. Others spun around and sped north. A couple North Korean soldiers fired what looked like RPG-7s at the US tanks. Both rockets missed. Tracers flew from a Bradley's 23mm cannon in the direction of the enemy soldiers.

More tanks and IFVs appeared. South Korean Type 88s and K200s. They hit the North Koreans' left flank.

Rice's breathing increased as he watched enemy vehicles blow up and burn. Some North Koreans retreated. Others stood and fought. US and South Korean infantrymen dismounted from their vehicles. Tracers from small arms fire criss-crossed the battlefield. Part of him wanted to go down there and add his M-4 to the firefight. Pulling a trigger was a hell of a lot more satisfying than just sitting and watching.

He closed his eyes, getting a handle on his emotions. They'd done a hell of a lot more damage with lasers and a radio than they could ever hope to do with their rifles and machine guns. Hopefully, this would stall the North Koreans' offensive. If they couldn't drive down the peninsula fast, they were –

"Oh crap," Soto blurted.

Rice whipped his head toward him. "What is it?"

Soto looked to him, still clutching the receiver. "Just got word from CFC. That damn monster just came out of water. It's headed right here."

Fear shot through Rice. His jaw stiffened as he tried to keep from shaking. An image of Thulgira's massive foot squashing them all flashed through his mind.

_Get it together._

He drew a quick breath and motioned for Soto to give him the receiver. "Brawler, this is Venom. Thulgira is headed your way."

"Say again, Venom."

"Thulgira, the monster. It's coming your way. It'll . . ."

A tremor rippled through the ground. Another. Another. He swore he heard their corpsman, Engle, gulp.

A grinding roar carried across the air. Ice spread over Rice's body.

"Venom, this is Brawler. We are pulling back to Seoul. Repeat, we are pulling back to Seoul. Get your asses out of here."

"Roger that, Brawler. Venom out." He handed the receiver back to Soto and looked around at the other SEALs. "Pack it in, guys. We're gettin' the hell out of Dodge."

Another roar filled his ears, much closer.

"I think we're too late, Sir." Warthan looked to the west.

Rice followed the Senior Chief's gaze.

"Oh my God." Candaele whispered and made a sign of the cross.

Rice couldn't stop himself from shivering.

Thulgira appeared over the trees. The damn thing had to be sixty or seventy meters tall. Its footfalls created mini-earthquakes. It roared again, making a beeline to the battlefield.

"Back! Back!" Rice ordered.

The SEALs retreated deeper into the foliage and laid on their stomachs. Rice held his breath as tremors shook every inch of his body. He gripped his M4 rifle tight, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His eyes never left the massive form of Thulgira. A collage of images whirled before his mind, images most people wouldn't believe possible in a situation like this. Rice saw himself going through the hell of BUD/S, swimming in the freezing cold Pacific Ocean, running through obstacle courses and rolling in mud pits. He thought back to all the weight-lifting and push-ups and sit-ups, all the hand-to-hand combat training, all the weapons he'd used from pistols to AT-4 rocket launchers. The Navy had spent nearly eight years turning him into one of the most elite warriors on the planet.

Despite all that, Rice felt insignificant, even helpless, as he stared up at the enormous monster before him.

Trees groaned and fell as Thulgira pushed through the woods. A huge reptilian foot smashed into the ground less than thirty yards from them. Rice felt his body jump off the ground. He bit his tongue, cutting off a gasp. Rita's face materialized in his mind's eye.

_I love you. I love you. Please, God, let me see her again._

Thulgira tramped past them. Rice forced himself to inch forward and peeked between the bushes.

US and South Korean tanks wheeled around and rolled back toward Seoul. Soldiers scrambled to get back into their Infantry Fighting Vehicles. A few, too scared to think straight, just ran.

Thulgira's horns glowed. A beam shot out from each one, connected, and formed a single beam. It cut through the ground and into the US armored force. M1A1s burst apart like large fireworks. So did the Bradleys. Thulgira roared and brought its foot down on an M1A1.

Another beam sliced into the South Korean force. More tanks, IFVs and men went up like matchsticks.

Jets roared out of the sky. A-10s and F-4s. The A-10s opened up with their gatling guns. Tracers pummeled Thulgira's hide. The armor-piercing rounds didn't faze it a bit. The monster roared and fired its beam. Two A-10s exploded. An F-4 dove on Thulgira and laced it with 20mm fire. It had no effect.

Before the fighter could pull up, Thulgira whirled around and lashed out its arm. The jet shattered like a vase hitting the floor.

"Dammit," Rice heard Myung-Dae curse.

More beams devastated the retreating US and ROK forces. Rice lowered his head and felt tremors of fear race through his legs.

_Did they plan this?_ Was Thulgira being sent into the sea all a plan to lure the bulk of the CFC's armored and mechanized forces in the Seoul area here, so the damn monster could wipe them out?

Well, it worked. Now nothing stood between the North Koreans and the ROK capital.

Instead of following Brawler's orders, the SEALs stayed put. Hell, Brawler was probably dead anyway. They reported back to Combined Forces Command that Thulgira had routed the US/South Korean forces and was headed toward Seoul.

Two hours later, they reported a Corps-sized force of North Korean armor and mechanized infantry also headed for the capital.

As enemy tanks and APCs and artillery and trucks rolled past, Rice dug out his necklace from under his collar and ran his thumb along the hook-shaped stone. Rita had called this a lucky charm. He hoped his wife was right, because they needed all the luck they could get to stop Thulgira and the North Koreans.

He winced, his brow furrowing.

Why did the stone suddenly feel warm in his hand?

**XXXXX**

_Under the Northeast Pacific Basin_

The feeling pulsated through it. A familiar feeling. Danger. Another threat to the world. The birds? No, not this time. Something else. Something even more dangerous than the birds.

Sensations from The Link flooded it. Terror. Worry. The Link feared it would lose this battle. But something tried to push that fear aside. A determination. The Link would not quit. The Link would either win or die trying.

It latched onto that feeling. Strength coursed through it. It would need all the strength it could to defeat this threat. Its strength and the strength from The Link.

Its massive heart pounded. Its yellow eyes flickered open. Arms and legs slid out from its shell. It reared back its head and let out a prolonged, wailing roar.

Gamera the Defender pushed off the ocean floor and headed west.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_Definition of terms: FROG – Free Rocket Over Ground_

_APC – Armored Personnel Carrier_

_ROK – Republic of Korea, aka South Korea_

_SAM – Surface-to-Air Missile_

_SPG – Self-Propelled Gun_

_IFV – Infantry Fighting Vehicle_

_CFC – Combined Forces Command_

_BUD/S – Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training_


	4. Chapter 4

Uldis Barznav had to admit, the image on the large wall monitor looked rather nice. The early morning sun bathed Seoul in a soft orange glow. So many tall buildings towered over the enormous city, sunlight glinting off their many glass windows. Absolutely nothing in Latvia could compare to this.

A shame it wouldn't exist much longer.

He tapped the keyboard in front of him, sending out the appropriate signals. Within seconds the image on the screen wobbled.

Thulgira was on the move.

Barznav leaned back in his chair and grinned. Barely 12 hours into the invasion and already Thulgira and the North Koreans were at the outskirts of Seoul.

_As though I ever had any doubts. _He'd conducted so many tests and trials that he knew when the day came, there would be no problems.

Seoul drew closer, broadcast by the cameras imbedded behind Thulgira's eyes. Another one of Barznav's innovations. He had hoped to have an aerial view of the attack on Seoul, courtesy of an An-24 modified for surveillance duty. But it, and its two escorting MiG-23s, had been shot down just minutes after entering the airspace of the South Korean capital.

Inconvenient, but not too much of a detriment. Spies from the North had hacked into traffic and security cameras all over Seoul, or had planted cameras on top of some of the tallest buildings in the city. It gave him hundreds of vantage points to witness the attack, and all those transmissions were fed into a computer program designed to give them a digital overview of Seoul, and Thulgira's progress through it.

The monster's feet crashed down on rows of apartment buildings and cheap houses as it entered the district, or _gu, _of Eunpyeong-gu in the northern part of the city. People abandoned their vehicles that clogged the streets. Hundreds, thousands, fled before Thulgira. A couple cameras showed men, women and children pushing and knocking down one another. Very few who fell got up again, trampled by the panicked mob.

Barznav tapped his keyboard again.

Lasers shot from Thulgira's horns. Explosions and flames consumed one neighborhood after another.

_Still no sign of the American or South Korean militaries. _Would they just let Thulgira smash the capital without a fight? As though any weapons they had could stop him. Perhaps they realized that. Or perhaps they were just too scared of Thulgira after it had routed their forces in the DMZ and in the tank battle north of Seoul.

The image from Thulgira turned to the right. Several black dots, Barznav counted at least thirty, approached the monster. They soon took on more distinct forms.

Helicopters. Of all types. Slender American AH-64 Apaches and South Korean Huey Cobras, and short, bulbous South Korean MD 500 Defenders.

_No, apparently they have not learned their lesson._

Orange flashes winked from the helicopters. Fiery contrails streaked over the flame-engulfed buildings of Eunpyeong-gu. Barznav stared impassively at the screen as the missiles slammed into Thulgira.

It did not faze the monster at all.

Barznav sent another signal to Thulgira. It turned toward the helicopters as they launched another salvo of missiles. A laser sliced through the air. Every helicopter the beam touched became like a miniature sun, burning bright and then fading. The surviving ones darted off in all directions. A handful, all South Korean, continued to fly toward Thulgira. Barznav emitted a sardonic laugh. A courageous last stand for their capital. A futile gesture, and ultimately, a fatal one.

Thulgira left Eunpyeong-gu behind, the area transformed into a sea of fire. Barznav transmitted another signal to the monster, sending him southeast, toward Jongno-gu in the heart of Seoul, toward Blue House, the residence of the President of the Republic of Korea.

**XXXXX**

"I know the streets are packed with people, but you have to funnel them to other streets." General Taylor's grip on the phone tightened as his frustration with the Colonel from the ROK Reserve Forces mounted. How he managed to keep from screaming at the man was beyond him.

_Because screaming means you've lost control._

With Thulgira attacking Seoul, he couldn't afford to lose control.

"You do not understand the situation, General. There are hundreds of thousands of vehicles and millions of people on the streets. We must get them to safety."

"I do understand the situation, Colonel. Our systems here are tied in to traffic and security cameras all over Seoul. We also have a Global Hawk orbiting the city. Right now, I'm looking at every major road in Seoul packed to the gills with people and cars. I know you have an impossible situation, but I need you and the National Police to clear a path for our armored forces so they can reach Jongno-gu and Seodaemun-gu and form a defensive line to try and stop this monster." Taylor ran down the streets and highways he needed cleared.

"Sir, if we try to divert people, the other streets and highways will become so crowded it will halt their progress. There will be panic. People will be trampled. They may even fight the authorities. We will have massive civilian deaths."

"We're going to have massive civilian deaths if we don't get those tanks and self-propelled guns up to those _gus_. I know the risks involved, but we have no choice. Get those streets cleared, Colonel. Now!"

A pause. "Yes, Sir." The Colonel's tone was better suited for a, "Damn you, Sir."

Taylor hung up the phone and looked at the wall monitors lining the CFC's alternate command post at Kunsan Air Base, 150 miles south of Seoul. Within minutes several of the traffic and security cameras picked up police and military reserves trying to halt fleeing civilians and divert them to other streets. Taylor's jaw clenched as he saw hundreds of people push against the authorities. The pushes became punches. Then bottles and rocks and other objects soared through the air at police and reservists. At one highway running through Jung-gu, puffs of smoke belched from M-16s as reservists fired into the crowd. Several civilians tried to flee the bullets, only to be pushed back by the ones running away from Thulgira.

The reservists kept firing into the crowd. Several civilians died. Several more surged forward. A few of them had faces twisted in rage. They swarmed the reservists. Feet and fists went up and down, some of those fists clutching bottles and cell phones and anything else they could grab.

Taylor hung his head. _Yeah, that worked. Dammit!_

The Colonel had been right. Trying to clear some of the roads sparked a riot. A deadly riot.

"Our armor and artillery will never reach their positions."

Taylor turned to Major General Suk, who stared at the monitors with a hardened gaze. He responded with a grunt. What could he say? Suk was right. Once a riot got going, it was damn hard to stop. Especially when that riot occurred in a city with ten million people running away from a monster.

He looked at a security camera feed. Two M1A1 tanks sat in the middle of a street, surrounded by stopped vehicles and mobs of civilians. Other cameras broadcast similar scenes.

His tanks and self-propelled artillery wouldn't be going anywhere.

_Unless . . ._

Nausea burned his stomach as the thought formed in his mind. His armored forces could reach their positions in Jongno-gu and neighboring Seodaemun-gu. What sort of obstacles were people and cars to a 60-ton tank?

_Can I really do it?_ Could he really order his tanks and SPGs to roll over civilians?

_We have to protect the capital._

At the cost of how many hundreds or thousands crushed by tank treads?

_They're dead anyway if we can't stop Thulgira._

And what guarantee did they have they could stop that damn monster? Missiles and bombs and shells hadn't even scratched it yet.

_Maybe we can slow it down enough to let the civilian population escape._

Kill a few thousand to save several million. That would be a logical trade-off. Could he live with that kind of logic? What about the crews of those tanks and SPGs? Could they live with it? Would they even obey such an order?

Taylor glanced over at Suk. What about him and all the other South Koreans here? What would they think of an American general who ordered his tanks to roll over their civilians? Would that wreck their alliance? And what about the press? All the hand-wringing the reporters and pundits and their political allies did over Abu Graib and the perceived torture at Guantanamo Bay would pale in comparison to American tanks deliberately crushing South Korean civilians.

But how could he just let his tanks and SPGs not even try to stop this attack?

_Make a decision, Michael, and make it now._

He drew a breath and opened his mouth.

"Thulgira is approaching Blue House," a South Korean captain announced from his console. "AC-130 is on station, ready to attack."

"Have Global Hawk zoom in on that area. Put it up on the main screen."

"Yes, Sir."

The screen flickered. An overhead image of Thulgira trampling trees and smashing gardens appeared. Taylor noticed Suk's jaw quiver slightly as he watched the monster stomp toward a building with a hipped-and-gabled roof covered with blue tiles.

Blue House.

The ROK President wasn't there, of course. He'd long since been evacuated. Still, destroying it would be a psychological blow to the South Koreans, as destroying The White House would be for Americans.

A fat, bulky four-prop plane appeared overhead. An AC-130 Spectre, the gunship version of the venerable C-130 Hercules transport. Another wall monitor showed an image from the Spectre's gun camera.

"Spectre has target lock," reported the South Korean captain. "Ready to fire."

Taylor nodded. "Tell them to fire at will."

"Yes, Sir."

The image from the gun camera lit up as tracers from the 25mm gatling gun and the 40mm Bofors cannon streaked down toward Thulgira. Every few seconds the image shook as the 105mm howitzer boomed. Flashes of orange and yellow sprouted across the monster's body. The AC-130 continued to circle Thulgira, keeping up a steady stream of fire. Taylor had seen the aircraft's impressive array of weapons lay waste to enemy forces in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Against, Thulgira, they did nothing.

The monster raised its head and fired a laser. The circling, slow-moving AC-130 made an easy target. Taylor sighed and lowered his eyes after the plane turned into a fireball.

Thulgira tramped up to Blue House. Its massive foot smashed down on the building, which crumpled as though it was made of matchsticks. The other buildings of the complex met similar fates, until all that remained were piles of rubble.

He heard gasps, two female, one male. All Korean. Taylor rotated his head left to right. Every South Korean soldier in the place had their eyes fixed on the screen. Some gaped at the ruin of the Blue House complex. Others, like General Suk, stood or sat in stoic silence. One or two looked as though they might cry.

Taylor drew a long, deep breath. "All right, everyone. There's nothing we can do about Blue House. But we still have the rest of Seoul to protect. General Suk." He turned to the CFC head of operations, his decision on their armored forces made. "As you said, there's no way our tanks and SPGs will make it to their positions. Tell the crews to disable all sensitive equipment aboard and abandon their vehicles. If they can't make it out on foot, tell them to seek shelter in a basement."

"Yes, Sir."

Taylor then looked to General Pendelli. "Looks like it's up to the air force to stop Thulgira. What's the status on the strike package?"

"The F/A-18s from the _Enterprise _are almost on station." _Enterprise _was the second US carrier operating in the Korean Theater of Operations, specifically in the Sea of Japan. "Alpha Strike should commence in five minutes."

"Thank you, General." Taylor nodded and looked at another screen, this one showing the radar feed from a South Korean 737 AEW&C. Over seventy planes of all types were gathering around the South Korean capital. American F-16s, F/A-18s and A-10s, ROK F-15s, F-16s, F-4s and F-5s. All preparing to hit Thulgira from every point on the compass.

He watched a group of electronic blips nearing Seoul. F/A-18 Hornets from the _Enterprise._ His eyes then shifted to the view from the Global Hawk. Another laser cut through the air. Skyscrapers exploded in half, their tops tumbling to the ground. Great gray clouds of debris rolled over smaller buildings. Taylor barely suppressed a shiver. Nine-Eleven flashed through his mind. Nine-Eleven magnified by a factor of thirty.

_Come on, damn you, _he mentally cursed the jets. _Hurry the hell up!_

Once the Hornets reached their station, all the jets in the strike package climbed higher. Another laser blast from Thulgira set several blocks of Seoul afire. Huge clouds of smoke and dust billowed up from the ground. Before long, Taylor had a hard time seeing Thulgira.

_And if I can't see him . . ._

The US and ROK jets nosed over and dove on the monster. Their radio transmissions came through the speakers in the JOC.

"I don't have a visual on the target."

"Too much smoke. I can't see."

"I've got a radar return on something big. It's gotta be the monster."

"I can't get a laser lock with all that smoke."

Someone from the South Korean 737 AEW&C rattled off GPS coordinates.

"Got it!"

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

"Bombs away!"

Taylor noticed everyone's attention turn to the main screen. A few surviving buildings could be seen through breaks in the clouds of smoke and dust.

Suddenly the clouds vanished. A digital image of Thulgira appeared, stomping through one neighborhood after another as it neared the Han River.

_Must be the Global Hawk's Synthetic Aperture Radar. _Those things could see through the thickest of clouds.

Trails of flame tore through the smoke and dust. So did several dark, oblong shapes. Missiles and bombs. The Global Hawk's SAR showed some of the projectiles missing badly, by as much as a mile or more.

_Smart weapons don't necessarily mean perfect weapons._

Other bombs and missiles exploded near Thulgira. A few hit dead on. Taylor held his breath and took a couple steps toward the monitor. Other soldiers and airmen manning the consoles leaned forward as the SAR image showed Thulgira stumble and flail.

_Go down. Go down and stay down, dammit._

A second wave of fighters and attack jets dove on Thulgira. Dozens of contrails and dozens of bombs converged on the monster's position. Some missed, those misses ranging from a few feet to a mile-and-a-half. Others scored direct hits. Thulgira leaned to one side and fell.

A smattering of cheers went through the JOC. Others shot out of their seats, looking ready to cheer.

Taylor tensed, his eyes locked on the screen. One second passed. Thulgira did not move. Two seconds passed. Still it didn't move. Three seconds . . . four . . . five . . .

The SAR picked up movement. Not much at first. Soon Thulgira pushed itself off the ground and was back on its feet.

"No," came a fearful whisper from a female Korean lieutenant.

Lasers shot from Thulgira's horns and into the air. The beam moved back and forth. Taylor glanced at the feed from the 737 AEW&C. One dot vanished. Then another and another. The beast had to be firing blind through the smoke and the dust. But with so many planes in the air, Thulgira was bound to hit some of them.

The monster turned its lasers back to ground targets. Bridges spanning the Han River, bridges packed with people, exploded into nothingness. More skyscrapers were cut in half, huge chunks of debris tumbling to the ground. Flames swept through one _gu_ after another.

A heavy silence hung over the JOC. Taylor looked around. Several Americans and Koreans hung their heads, Suk included. Taylor clenched his jaw, trying not to hang his head. Even now, he had to appear confident in front of the men and women he led.

Not that he felt confident, not after they threw everything they had at Thulgira to no avail.

He walked over to one of the communications consoles and picked up a red phone. He heard the dial tone the moment he held it to his ear. The phone was connected to just one person in the entire world.

The President of the Republic of Korea.

"Mister President, this is General Taylor. I regret to inform you that Seoul has fallen."

**XXXXX**

Soldiers, scientists and technicians alike cheered and shook hands as the few surviving cameras in Seoul showed the great city awash in fire.

"You have succeeded, Doctor Barznav," Major General Sang told him. "Seoul has been destroyed. The capitalists in the South will be utterly demoralized. They have nothing that can stop Thulgira. It will not be long before the capitalist oppressors are defeated and The Fatherland is reunited. Your service to the Great Leader shall be rewarded."

"Mm-hmm." Barznav simply nodded and continued looking at the burning city. The Great Leader reward him? With what? A paltry few million dollars. The Midget had a bank account worth billions.

His eyes shifted from the monitors to the keyboard that controlled Thulgira, then back to the monitors. He thought about some of the propaganda broadcasts he'd heard, the ones that claimed The Midget actually controlled Thulgira.

_That idiot couldn't use a DVD player without help._

He controlled Thulgira. Him and him alone.

And if he controlled Thulgira, what could stop him from controlling Korea?

_To hell with Korea. What's to stop me from controlling the world?_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_AEW&C – Airborne Early Warning & Control_

_JOC – Joint Operation Center_


	5. Chapter 5

Rice jammed the blasting cap into the block of C4 attached to one of the supports of the bridge spanning the Geum River. He scowled at it as he hung from the rope.

He couldn't believe they were retreating.

His superiors at Combined Forces Command could call it whatever they wanted. A tactical withdraw, regrouping, or the famous BS line "fighting in another direction."

It all added up to one thing. The North Koreans had them on the run.

My God, he wanted to punch something. SEALS don't run. They fight! To the last man, if necessary.

At least, they could do that against a normal enemy.

Thulgira did not count as a normal enemy.

Instead, his SEAL unit had been tasked with blowing this bridge to delay the advancing North Koreans and give US and South Korean forces time to set up a defensive line at Daejon to the south.

At least blowing the bridge would slow the North Koreans. It sure as hell wouldn't slow Thulgira.

Rice inserted the last blasting cap and looked up. "I'm done, Candaele. Bring me up."

The SAW gunner pulled him up to the bridge. Once Rice untied the rope around him, he checked around. Forests stretched for miles on both banks. No sign of any bad guys, or monsters.

"SITREP," he spoke into his throat mike.

"One more support to go," reported Senior Chief Warthan. "Lieutenant Myung-Dae and Engle are about to get started on it."

"Roger that. Stay alert."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm wondering why we're even botherin' doin' this," Candaele groused. "Hell, that friggin' monster doesn't need a bridge. He could just wade across this damn river."

"We're doing this to slow down the North Korean Army," Rice replied.

"Like they really care if they get delayed by a few hours. Thulgira's winning this war for them single-handedly."

Rice let out a frustrated breath. "I wish I could argue with you, Candaele. But all I can say is orders are orders. SOCKOR wants us to blow this bridge, so we blow this bridge."

"Yes, Sir. Just voicing my opinion."

"You've been in the Navy long enough to know you're not allowed to have an opinion." Rice tacked on a smile.

Candaele smiled back.

"Echo Six, Echo One," Rice heard Mongkut's voice in his earpiece.

"Echo Six. Go."

"We've got company," said the sniper, who sat on a hilltop some 700 yards from the bridge. "Two M-113 APCs. Approaching the bridge from the north. Two miles out."

"Roger." Rice chewed on his lower lip. The South Koreans used M-113s. But all allied forces should already be on the other side of the Geum by now. Probably stragglers. Still . . .

"Okay, everyone. You heard Mongkut. We've got APCs coming our way. Get into the bushes now."

Good guys or not, if someone was coming their way they had to turn invisible. Outsiders might think it made no sense to hide from your allies. But what if those soldiers told others they had seen SEALs setting charges to this bridge and it somehow got back to the North Koreans. Rice and his men operated in a world where secrecy meant the difference between life and death.

His SEALs coiled up their ropes and hustled across the bridge. He stood on the roadside until each of his men had gone into the nearby shrubbery, then joined them.

A minute later, they heard the growling of diesel engines. Soon a pair of dark green shoebox-shaped tracked vehicles appeared. M-113s, Vietnam War-era armored personnel carriers. As with the US Army and Marine Corps, the South Koreans had pretty much withdrawn them from regular front-line units. These two probably belonged to a reserve unit.

The M-113s rolled onto the bridge. Rice exhaled slowly, wishing the vehicles would hurry up and get across. He wanted to finish setting the last charges and . . .

Both M-113s stopped side-by-side at the center of the bridge.

Soto's face scrunched up. "Why the heck did they stop?"

"I don't know." Rice shook his head. It didn't make sense. They were a force in retreat. These guys shouldn't want to stop until they reached Daejon.

The rear ramps of both M-113s lowered. Soldiers in green-brown-black Woodland Battle Dress Uniforms rushed out, M-16 rifles at the ready. One soldier in each vehicle manned the pintel-mounted .50 caliber machine gun.

Rice tensed as he watched the Koreans. Something didn't feel right.

One soldier, a stocky, pug-faced man, waved his arms and shouted orders. Three soldiers hurried to the northern end of the bridge, and three more to the southern end.

Sentries.

Pug-face shouted something else and gestured to the other soldiers.

"He's telling them to check the supports," Lieutenant Myung-Dae told Rice and the other SEALs.

"What'd ya mean 'check the supports'?" Candaele asked. "What the hell for?"

Myung-Dae ignored him and turned to Rice. "Commander Rice. Those men are not South Korean soldiers. They are North Korean. I believe Special Purpose Forces."

"You sure?"

"I do not see how they can be anything else. A regular or reserve infantry unit would continue their retreat, not stop on the middle of a bridge."

Rice continued to stare at him. Everything Myung-Dae said made sense. Hell, he'd had the same thoughts. Being a potential adversary, him and his fellow SEALs had studied everything available to them about the North Korean Special Purpose Forces. They did possess many types of uniforms, weapons and equipment used by the South Korean military in order to conduct behind-the-lines operations.

This was likely one of them.

The North Koreans weren't stupid, especially the SPF. They had to know it would make sense for the retreating US/ROK forces to blow this bridge. Therefore, their objective would be to neutralize any explosives they found and secure the bridge for any approaching North Korean army units.

_What if you're wrong?_

Rice tried to push down the little voice in the back of his head. He couldn't be wrong. It was the only thing that made sense.

But what if these guys were South Koreans? What if they were acting on some other general's orders to secure the bridge, even though SOCKOR had ordered it demolished? It wouldn't be the first time one command didn't know what another was up to, especially with all the chaos and confusion of the retreat.

Rice gritted his teeth. What if he and Myung-Dae were wrong? What if he ordered them to attack a bunch of South Korean soldiers? He couldn't even imagine the crap storm this sort of friendly fire incident would create.

Pug-face hollered and gestured again.

"He's telling them to get ropes and check the supports," Myung-Dae translated.

Rice narrowed his eyes at the Koreans on the bridge. This was not the way a regular, or especially a reserve infantry force, acted.

_What if you're –_

No! He wasn't wrong. He had to erase all doubt from his mind. SOCKOR had given him and his unit a mission. They would complete it. That was all that mattered.

"Echo One, Echo Six."

"Echo Six," Mongkut replied. "Go."

"One, the soldiers on the bridge are not, repeat, not South Korean. High probability they are North Korean Special Purpose Forces here to secure this bridge."

"Copy that."

"You see the stocky soldier shouting and gesturing in all directions?"

A pause. "I see him."

"I'm guessing he's the leader. When I give the word, you take him down."

"Copy that."

"Six out." Rice turned to the rest of his men. "All right. Engle. AT-4 on those APCs."

"Roger." Engle unslung the rocket launcher from his shoulder.

"Senior Chief." Rice glanced at the grenade launcher under the barrel of the M4 held by his number two man. "Put down frag grenades on the troops around the middle of the bridge."

"You got it."

"Candaele. You lay down cover fire."

"The ground's too flat here. I'm not gonna have a good angle at most of the soldiers. Hang on." Candaele checked the area from their concealed position, keeping his movements slow and purposeful, and staying out of sight. "Sir." He pointed to his right. "Ten yards that way, there's a small tree. I can balance my SAW on one of the branches. That should give me a good field of fire."

"Good." Rice nodded. "All right, me, Soto and Myung-Dae will break cover and advance to the bridge at a right angle, three meter intervals. We take out the sentries at the edge of the bridge, then we pop anyone left standing. Every got their assignments?"

"Yes, Sir," The SEALs whispered.

"All right. Remember, these guys are the best the other side has. We gotta take 'em down hard and fast before they have a chance to get their crap together. Now let's get ready."

Rice moved closer to the roadway, followed by Soto and Myung-Dae. Candaele crept through the bushes until he reached the tree. Engle had his AT-4 on his shoulder and Warthan chambered a frag grenade into his launcher. Everyone touched in they were ready.

Not a moment too soon. The disguised North Koreans had secured a rope to the side of the bridge and lowered a commando down along the support beam.

"Echo One, Echo Six."

"Echo One. Go."

"Status on the target."

"I have a solution," Mongkut reported.

"Take him out."

"Copy that."

One second passed. Then two. A muffled thump carried over the trees and water. At the same instant, Pug-face's head exploded in a cloud of red. Blood and brains spattered the metal works of the bridge, as well as a pair of North Koreans. Pug-face's headless body stumbled forward and pitched over the bridge. The other SPF troopers gawked at the sight. Even the most highly-trained of soldiers needed a couple seconds to process a sudden attack.

Those couple seconds would prove fatal.

A thump and whoosh erupted from Engle's AT-4. A contrail raced toward the bridge and struck the M-113 sitting in the left lane. A gusher of flame ripped through the vehicle. The explosion muffled the thump of Senior Chief Warthan's grenade launcher and the crackle of Candaele's M249 Squad Automatic Weapon. A shower of sparks went up among a group of three North Koreans. They all fell to the ground. Tracers from Candaele's SAW stitched the commando dangling next to the support, then moved up to the bridge and cut down three of his buddies.

Rice, Soto and Myung-Dae broke cover. They brought up their M4s. Each fired a three-round burst. All three sentries at the edge of the bridge crumpled to the ground.

A second contrail flew over the bridge. The remaining M-113 exploded.

A pair of North Koreans got on their stomachs and fired in the direction of Rice and his squad. They dropped along the side of the bridge, rounds cracking over their heads.

Warthan launched another frag grenade. It burst between the two North Koreans. They both rolled on their backs and lay motionless.

"Go! Go! Go!" Rice led Soto and Myung-Dae onto the bridge. He swept his rifle back and forth, searching for targets. Fifteen yards away, he spotted a North Korean lying on his side, blood pouring from his stomach and leg. The commando reached out for his fallen M-16, dragging it toward him by the strap.

Rice split the North Korean's head open with a three-round burst.

The stench of burning metal and flesh from the fiery M-113s filled his nose. He ignored it, covering Myung-Dae as he used his combat knife to cut the thick nylon rope tied to the North Korean dangling next to the support. They had no idea if Candaele's rounds killed the man or wounded him. Within seconds, the severed rope zipped over the side, dropping the commando into the Geum River sixty feet below.

The three SEALS moved around the flaming M-113s, searching for any more targets. Every North Korean they came across lay on the ground in pools of blood.

"Clear!" Rice shouted.

"Clear!" called out Soto, then Myung-Dae.

"Echo Six," Rice spoke into his mike. "Bridge secure, all hostiles down. Repeat, bridge secure. All hostiles down."

A chorus of "Rogers" filled his earpiece. He then called for Warthan, Candaele and Engle to return to the bridge. They quickly searched the dead North Koreans, but found nothing useful on them. Everything they wore, right down to their underwear and socks, were standard-issue ROK military. Even their wristwatches were of South Korean manufacture. Then again, for the kinds of missions the SPF did, they had to get every single detail right. Not to do so could mean death.

"Soto. Lower the Senior Chief down to the middle support. Let's make sure that one asshole didn't mess up our charges."

"Yes, Sir," Soto replied.

"Myung-Dae, Engle. Get the charges set on the last support, and make it quick. If these guys came here to secure this bridge, we could have a whole North Korean mechanized division headed our way."

They both acknowledged the order.

A few minutes later, Soto hauled up Warthan, who reported, "Charges are fine, Sir. Our friend didn't have a chance to disarm 'em."

"Good to hear. Thanks, Senior Chief."

"Echo Six, Echo One," Mongkut radioed.

"Echo Six. Go."

"Sir, if you're not finished with those last charges, you better hurry."

Rice grunted. "More bad guys?"

"Just one. The big bad guy."

Rice froze. Fear clenched his chest.

A grinding roar bellowed in the distance.

"Aw crap!" Candaele blurted. "Not that damn thing again."

"Afraid so," Rice grumbled before radioing Mongkut. "Echo One. How far out is Thulgira?"

"Six miles, at least."

"Engle."

"Yes, Sir."

"How are you coming with those charges?"

"I still have one more to go."

Another roar carried through the air. With those big strides of his, Thulgira could probably cover six miles in less than ten minutes.

"Engle, you've got three minutes."

"Roger."

Rice fought to keep his face rigid. Not the easiest thing to do, especially every time Thulgira roared, and every time Mongkut called out its distance. Five miles . . . four miles. Crap, less than ten minutes, he had guessed? Try closer to five minutes.

"Engle?"

"The last cap's in, Sir. Lieutenant! Pull me up and let's get the hell out of Dodge."

Myung-Dae hauled Engle back up to the bridge.

"Let's go!" Rice waved to them. "Move it! Move it!"

He watched the SEALs run past him before taking off himself.

Another roar split the air, much louder this time. He glanced over his shoulder. No sign of Thulgira. Yet.

He pumped his legs furiously, ignoring the burning in his lungs. The monster roared again.

His vision blurred. He stumbled. Was that the sky rushing before his eyes?

"Sir? You okay?"

Rice shook his head. Candaele stood fifteen feet away from him.

_What the hell was that about?_

Another roar.

No time to think about it. Rice took off and caught up with the rest of the SEALs. They darted off the bridge and into the foliage along the roadway.

Another flash of sky whipped before his eyes. The skin over his heart felt warm.

_What the hell?_

_Forget about it._

"Soto. Detonator."

The lanky SEAL pulled out a stubby device from his pack. "Got it."

A roar shook the air, making all the SEALs cringe. Thulgira's head could be seen above the treetops on the opposite bank.

Rice looked to Soto and started to open his mouth.

The SEALs and the vegetation around him vanished, replaced by blue sky. Wind pelted his face, to the point he feared it would rip off his skin.

_What the hell is happening?_

"Commander?" A distant voice called to him. "Commander? Is something wrong?"

Rice blinked. He stared into the concerned face of Lieutenant Myung-Dae. All his SEALs stared at him with concerned expressions. Concerned and confused.

He sucked down a deep breath and checked over his shoulder. Trees collapsed under Thulgira's feet as he neared the Geum River.

Rice whipped his head back to Soto. "Blow the damn bridge!"

Soto nodded, then flipped a switch on the detonator. "Armed . . . Fire in the hole."

His thumb came down on the red button.

Flashes of orange and black erupted under the bridge, immediately followed by a string of sharp crashes. The span rocked and twisted and groaned. Thulgira paused, staring at the bridge as large pieces of it broke off and plunged into the water.

"Let's get -"

A roar filled his ears. Not Thulgira's roar. This one felt like someone stuck him inside the engine of a 747. Again he saw the sky, and something else. Something dark in front of him. No, not in front of him. Below him. He felt himself go into a dive. The dark shapes in front of him took form. Rice made out miles of trees, with a river snaking through them.

_Wait a minute. Is that –_

His chest burned.

"Ah! Shit!" He dug under his collar and yanked out his pendant.

The hook-shaped stone glowed bright red.

"Yo, what's up with that?" Candaele gazed at it with wide eyes.

"Sir," said Warthan, who couldn't take his eyes off the stone. "We need to get out of here."

"No. Everything'll be all right."

"What?" Candaele tilted his head. "How -"

A prolonged, wailing roar came from the sky.

Rice looked up. So did the other SEALs.

An oblong shape dove for the ground, flames gushing from its rear.

"No friggin' way," Candaele blurted.

Thulgira rose his head . . .

Just as Gamera plowed into him.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_SITREP – Situation Report_

_SOCKOR – Special Operations Command Korea_

_APC – Armored Personnel Carrier_

_SFP – Special Purpose Forces_

_ROK – Republic of Korea (South Korea)_

_SAW – Squad Automatic Weapon (light machine gun)_


	6. Chapter 6

"What!" Barznav jumped out of his seat, wide eyes glued to the screen. He was vaguely aware of Major General Sang and the other Koreans in the command center also gazing at the screen in shock. The cameras behind Thulgira's eyes pointed straight up into the sky. A dark shape hovered above it, one with a diamond-like head, rows of razor-sharp teeth and two tusks protruding from its lower jaw.

Gamera. The monster turtle.

_Where the hell did it come from? _No one had seen Gamera since it defeated the Gyaos invasion of Japan two years ago. Why did the damn thing choose now to return? Why come to Korea? Did it somehow sense Thulgira's presence?

"Gamera," Sang said in nearly a whisper. He turned to Barznav. "Can . . . Can Thulgira stop him?"

Barznav whipped his head toward the General. Images spooled through his mind of the TV footage of Gamera's battles with the giant reptilian birds, all of which ended in the turtle's favor.

Would the same happen here?

_No._

"No!" Barznav dropped back into his seat, his fingers pounding the keyboard, sending commands to his monster. "Thulgira will not be defeated."

He looked up at the screen. Gamera slashed at Thulgira with its taloned hand.

_He can't be defeated._

**XXXXX**

_Block . . . Block . . . Tackle!_

Rice watched Gamera lower his head and run into Thulgira. The dinosaur-like monster tumbled backwards and crashed into the opposite bank of the Geum River. Tremors raced through the ground.

Now Rice stared down at Thulgira. Moments later he watched the two monsters from his vantage point across the river. The switching points of view continued as Gamera delivered a blow to the side of Thulgira's head. It was like constantly flipping back-and-forth between TV channels.

_Kick him! Keep him down!_

Gamera landed a kick into Thulgira's side. The monster roared in pain.

How was he doing it? How the hell was he controlling one of the most powerful forces on Earth?

Rice clenched the glowing stone pendant between his thumb and index finger.

Thulgira thrashed and rammed a forearm into Gamera's midsection. The turtle stumbled backwards.

Rice grimaced, pain hammering his gut.

Thulgira got back to its feet and lowered its head.

_Lasers!_

Gamera ducked.

A bright yellow beam shot from Thulgira's horns. It struck the top of Gamera's shell and deflected toward the sky. The turtle roared, more from anger than pain.

"Commander!" Senior Chief Warthan hollered. "Commander, what the hell's going on?"

"I'm controlling him." Rice made Gamera leap at Thulgira. The turtle collided with the other monster. Both fell into the river, sending great sheets of water cascading over both banks.

"Say what?" Candaele blurted.

"I'm in its head. I'm in Gamera's head. I don't know how, but I am."

His elbows tingled. His arms tensed.

Bone blades slid out the back of Gamera's elbows.

Rice drew back his left arm, then delivered an elbow strike to the air.

Gamera's elbow struck the frill over Thulgira's head. The blade dug into the monster's toughened skin. Gamera hit it again and again, as Rice made elbow strike after elbow strike.

"Damn, he is controlling that big turtle," muttered Soto.

"Yeah! Kick that ugly thing's ass, Sir!" Candaele cheered.

"Shut up, both of you!" snapped Warthan. "Let the man concentrate." He added under his breath, "I don't believe this shit."

The bone blade finally pierced Thulgira's skin. Red blood flowed onto its left horn and over its snout. Thulgira roared and slammed both hands into Gamera's chest. The turtle wailed and stumbled back.

Thulgira rose, lowered its head and charged.

_Twist to the side._

Gamera turned to the ride at the last second. Thulgira stormed past, its footfalls shaking the earth. Gamera grabbed Thulgira by the back, spun it around in a complete 180 and flung it into the opposite bank. A deep rumble filled the air. Huge chunks of dirt and rock from the cliffside collapsed into the water.

_Stay on him._

Gamera stomped over and pounded Thulgira's back. The monster spun around and swatted Gamera's head.

Rice's head snapped around. Pain exploded in his skull.

"Commander!" Myung-Dae blurted.

"I'm fine." Rice ignored the throbbing in his head, concentrating on the fight.

_Gotta kill it. Kill Thulgira, we win this war._

Thulgira planted a shoulder into Gamera. The turtle roared and fell backwards. Thulgira lowered its head.

Gamera opened his maw wide. Rice's throat burned as a fireball flew from Gamera's mouth. Thulgira ducked to the right. The great ball of flame shot past the monster, glancing its shoulder. Thulgira cried out in pain, smoke rising from patches of blackened skin.

Gamera drew his legs into its shell. Huge jets of flame gushed from the openings and washed over Thulgira. The monster threw back its head and unleashed a piercing shriek. Rice noticed Candaele and Engle grimacing.

The jets of flames from Gamera vanished. His legs slid out and he rose to his feet, letting out a prolonged, wailing roar. Thulgira stumbled in the water.

_Finish him._

A red glow built up in Gamera's mouth. Rice drew a breath and held it. His entire body tensed. This was it.

Gamera started forward, ready to unleash the fireball.

Thulgira fired its laser. The beam missed Gamera and sliced into the bank. The giant turtle jerked to the right as it belched out the fireball. The deadly red-orange comet streaked past Thulgira and exploded against the opposite bank. Waves of fire swept over the forest.

Thulgira fired again. The beam missed Gamera by a few yards. Another beam leapt from Thulgira's horns.

This one cut into the turtle's side.

Gamera wailed.

Rice cried out and clutched his left side. He froze. It felt wet and sticky.

"Sir!" Engle started toward him.

"I'm fine," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

_Fight the pain. Fight it! Kill Thulgira._

Gamera growled and took a shaky step toward the monster. Another step. Another.

Thulgira lowered its head and charged.

_Move!_

Gamera turned to the side.

Thulgira missed with his left horn.

His right horn buried itself in Gamera's ribcage.

**XXXXX**

Cheers and applause rang out in the command center. Even the normally reserved Major General Sang added his voice to the mini-celebration.

Barznav neither cheered nor applauded. He just slumped in his seat, letting out a long, relieved breath, hoping no one noticed it.

Thulgira withdrew its horn from Gamera. The giant turtle wobbled from side to side, blood pouring out of its massive wound. It turned and stumbled along the Geum River, trying to get away.

Barznav transmitted a command to Thulgira. It fired its laser. The beam struck Gamera's rigid shell, with no visible effect. A second shot yielded the same result.

Gamera activated the jets in its legs and flew into the sky. Thulgira fired at the turtle again, missing.

Barznav balled his fist, stopping short of thumping it on his console.

_Dammit. I should have killed it._

He took a couple deep breaths, calming himself. Who's to say Gamera wouldn't die? Maybe it was flying off to find somewhere quiet to spend its few remaining hours on Earth.

Either way, he and Thulgira had driven off the damn turtle. Barznav had to view this as a triumph. True, Thulgira had been injured. That still shocked him. But according to the sensors he had embedded inside the monster, the wound was not serious.

In the end, Thulgira had defeated the world's most powerful monster.

"Did you see the imperialists' turtle flee?" said a beaming technician. "It cannot match Thulgira's power."

"Yes, Comrade," responded a young lieutenant at a console in the row behind Barznav. "The Great Leader's monster is truly unbeatable."

Barznav whipped around and glared at the lieutenant. _The Great Leader's monster? _What the hell did The Midget have to do with this? That idiot didn't create the technology that controlled Thulgira. He didn't study this creature. He didn't conduct tests to determine its power and resistance to injury.

_I did all that._

Barznav turned back to the screen, the scowl on his face deepening. The time was almost at hand to show the North Koreans who truly controlled Thulgira.

The North Koreans, and the rest of the world.

**XXXXX**

"Sir? Oh my God, Jim!"

Rice barely heard Warthan, barely registered Thulgira plodding off down the Geum River. His entire body had gone ice cold. His breaths came in gurgling wheezes. Slowly, he forced his head down.

Fear consumed his soul when he saw the hole in his ribcage, and the blood pouring out of it.

_I . . . failed._

His wife's face appeared in his mind's eye.

_Rita. I . . . I . . ._

Rice fell backwards as darkness swallowed him.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	7. Chapter 7

General Taylor's stomach twisted as stared at his laptop on the desk of his office, his – what was it? – the fourth or fifth different office he'd had since the North Koreans crossed the 38th Parallel. A map of the peninsula appeared on the screen. The areas shaded in red denoted the parts of South Korea currently under enemy control.

Half the damn country was shaded red.

_We're failing._

_I'm failing._

Even worse was how his failure translated back home. The press relentlessly pounded The President, his administration, and the military about American casualties in the thousands, about one retreat after another, and about who to blame for not finding out the North Koreans had a monster.

Each day, more of the public demanded US troops be brought home, that the defense of a small country an ocean away wasn't worth any more American blood.

_What then? We just let the North Koreans burn this country to the ground? Let them slaughter millions?_

Anger lines dug into Taylor's face. What the hell happened to his country? Things get tough and what does everyone want to do? Quit. Just let the bullies run the world. Let them destroy a strong democratic ally, a major trading partner with the US.

And lots and lots of good people.

Korea had become more than just Taylor's current assignment. Many of the South Koreans he worked with were more than colleagues. He counted them as friends. He'd be damned if he'd run out on his friends just because things got tough. He'd be damned if he'd see America run away from a fight. That had happened too much for his taste. They had run away in Vietnam. They had run away in Beirut. They had run away in Somalia. What enemy would take the US seriously if they ran away in Korea?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened. A short Asian woman in her early forties wearing a tan-gray-green pixel pattern USAF Airman Battle Uniform entered.

"General Li," Taylor greeted the daughter of Chinese immigrants who served as the head of intelligence for Combined Forces Command.

"General Taylor. I hope I'm not interrupting, but I have some critical information regarding Thulgira."

Taylor's eyes widened. He leaned forward in his seat. "If you have something that can help us stop that damn monster, trust me, you're not interrupting." He motioned her to a seat in front of his desk. "So what do you have?"

Li made her presentation. When she finished, Taylor got on the secure phone and ordered his chief of staff to arrange a meeting of the entire CFC command staff in fifteen minutes. He then exited his office, with Li on his heels, and strode through Administration Building to an elevator. He hit the button for sub-level three, and the Alternate CFC Joint Operations Center under Kunsan Air Base. Several American and South Korean senior officers, all wearing combat fatigues, sat at the long oak conference table. Other officers appeared on a large plasma screen on the other end of the room. Taylor couldn't risk having his entire staff in one place, where a single North Korean bomb could decapitate the leadership of Combined Forces Command.

Once Taylor was certain everyone was present, he turned the briefing over to General Li.

"One of the things the C-2 staff," she used the term for Combined Forces Command Intelligence, "has been trying to determine is how the North Koreans are controlling Thulgira. We knew there had to be some sort of signal involved, but finding it through all the radio and radar traffic around the peninsula has not been easy. But a few hours ago, we caught a break. A US RC-135 Rivet Joint reconnaissance plane picked up an extremely low frequency signal and tracked it to a spot approximately twenty miles west of Taejon. At the time of interception, that was exactly where Thulgira was located."

"Do you believe this is the signal controlling the monster?" asked Major General Suk.

"That's the only conclusion we can draw."

"Did you learn where the signal is originating from?"

"Yes, General." Li picked up a remote control and split the plasma screen. One side contained the images of the CFC staff located elsewhere in the Korean Theater of Operations. The other side showed a map of North Korea. Using the cursor, Li highlighted a section roughly thirty miles north of the DMZ. "Right here, at the southern tip of the Ahobiryong Mountain Range near Kaesong."

Li changed the image again. This one showed an overhead view of a complex with several rectangular buildings, large antennas and satellite dishes.

"This image comes from one of our KH-12 satellites. Originally, we thought this was a television station, and was obviously put far down on our priority list. But after the Rivet Joint detected that signal, I tasked a South Korean RF-4C reconnaissance Phantom to fly over the facility."

She put up a new image. It was still the "television station," but this time three sections were circled with words next to them.

"Our analysts identified three camouflaged air defense systems around the facility. Two are SA-17 Gadfly missile launchers, and one is an S-60 anti-aircraft gun. We suspect there are more anti-air systems located there."

"I do not think we need any more evidence that this is indeed the installation controlling Thulgira," said Suk. "We must destroy it as soon as possible."

"The only problem I see," noted the portly, balding Admiral Isaac Neeman, the commander of US Naval Forces Korea, "is even if we knock out that signal, Thulgira will still be in Korea, and continue to threaten, and likely destroy, lives and property."

"But the monster will not do it at the direction of the North," countered Suk. "It is also likely that without any guidance, Thulgira may simply go to the sea and swim away. It might even turn around and attack the North Koreans."

"If Thulgira does jump into the sea and, as you say, swim away, then it becomes a threat to the entire Pacific region, probably the world."

"I think it's already a threat to the world, Admiral." Taylor folded his hands on the table, wondering if, and when, those "monster experts" from Japan would come up with a way to stop Thulgira once and for all. "But be that as it may, the only reason the North has been able to advance as far as they have is because of Thulgira. Denying them control of their most powerful asset has to be our first priority. We'll worry about killing it later."

He frowned, thinking about the sudden appearance of Gamera the other day at the Geum River. If only that damned giant turtle had finished off Thulgira, they could start pushing back the North Koreans.

But from what the SEAL team assigned to destroy the bridge in that area had said, the injury Gamera suffered could be life-threatening.

_Which means it falls on us and us alone to do the job._

"All right, people. Give me options. How do we take out this base?"

"An air strike is our best option." No surprise, this came from US Air Force General Pendelli. "We can use a B-2 out of Guam to launch some JASSMs at it. Those missiles have a range of two hundred-thirty miles. The bomber can be well off the coast when it launches."

Taylor nodded, though had some concerns. With over half the allied combat aircraft in-country destroyed, The Americans and South Koreans could not guarantee air superiority over the peninsula. Despite the stealthy aspects of the B-2, and to a much lesser extent the B-1, they had already lost three of those strategic bombers.

_They may be able to hide from radar, but not a lucky pilot with a good Mark One Eyeball._

"How long will it take to get a B-2 here and knock out that facility?"

Pendelli bit his lip. "From the time it takes to plan and brief for the mission, load and fuel the plane, and fly here from Guam, between eight and nine hours."

Suk grunted. "By that time Thulgira may have broken through our lines and be on its way here." He tapped the table with his index finger.

"General Suk's right," said Taylor. "We need to knock out that place ASAP. Any other options closer to home?"

"The Navy has its own cruise missiles, and stationed much closer to Korea than that B-2."

Pendelli gave Admiral Neeman a quick glare in response for the dig at his service.

Neeman continued. "Currently the submarine _Pittsburgh _is operating about forty miles off the coast of Inchon. Once General Li sends them her intel, they can program their Tomahawk missiles, launch 'em, and take out that place, all within an hour, at least."

"Do it." Taylor straightened in his seat. A feeling sparked inside him, and soon grew larger and larger. A feeling he feared abandoned him since the destruction of Seoul.

That feeling was hope.

**XXXXX**

Barznav took his time strolling through the complex. He looked around at the surrounding forests and mountains. The scenery didn't really captivate him. A forest was a forest and mountains were mountains to him. But it was nice to get out for a little fresh air. For two-and-a-half days he had been confined to the sub-levels. The advances south by Thulgira and the People's Army had kept him occupied most of the time. But eventually, he needed to get outside and see the sun and feel the breeze.

The sun was starting to set as he approached the cluster of antennas, two soldiers acting as bodyguards in tow. He stared at the largest one, the one sending the signals that controlled Thulgira.

The one that made him the most powerful man in the world.

Barznav clasped his hands behind his back, mentally sifting through ideas and plots. The time was fast approaching to end his relationship with the North Koreans. But he had to get Thulgira in a position where he could kill The Midget. How many in this country looked upon that idiot as a god? Kill the god, crush their spirit. They would not dare oppose him.

_Or would they?_ What would stop General Sang from putting a bullet into the back of his head after he ordered Thulgira to stomp The Midget as if he were an ant?

_I killed your god, now worship me._

Would that work on Sang? The man practically pissed his pants whenever The Midget called or visited them, but the General didn't strike him as one who deified his ruler.

_Kill me and you lose control of Thulgira. He will go wild and destroy your country. I am the only one who can prevent that._

That could work. After all, they had seen what the monster did to South Kor . . .

Something rumbled through the air. Barznav looked up, searching the sky for the source of the noise. Obviously a jet. There was a war going on. It was probably North Korean MiGs headed south to bomb something or provide air cover or –

A piercing, sustained wail erupted throughout the complex.

"Air raid!" one of Barznav's guards shouted. "Air raid! Hurry!"

The guard waved him toward a half-oval shaped building that hid the tunnel leading to sub-levels. Barznav ran best he could, panting before he reached the entrance. Barznav about collapsed when he and his guards got into the elevator. He leaned against the wall, a hand over his pounding heart, taking one deep breath after another.

"Are you all right, Sir?" asked the guard.

"Y . . . Yes," he gasped. Dammit, his lungs were burning. No matter how much he breathed, he just couldn't get enough air. Oh, how he hated running.

By the time they reached the command center, Barznav's breathing was somewhat normal.

"What's going on, General?" he asked Sang, then inhaled deeply.

"Radar has detected three low-flying objects crossing our coastline and heading for this base."

Sang pointed to one of the wall monitors. It showed an image of the North Korean west coast, with three missile tracks edging closer to the base.

Barznav's mouth went dry. His heart went into overdrive again, this time from anxiety.

_No, no, no. _This couldn't happen. He couldn't have his plans, his dreams, ruined like this.

"Stop them!" he blurted, then bit his lip. Paranoia crept into his head. Would Sang find the outburst suspicious?

The General turned to him. "That is exactly what I intend to do." He picked up a phone and waited a few seconds before speaking. "This is General Sang. Do you have the inbound enemy missiles on radar . . . Good. You know what to do."

Sang flicked a switch to put the phone onto the loudspeaker and replaced the receiver.

"Phoenix One-Three, intercept Target One. Phoenix One-Five, intercept Target Two."

"One-Three acknowledges."

"One-Five acknowledges."

Barznav swallowed, his eyes fixed on the missile tracks as they drew closer, closer.

_Come on, you idiots. Shoot the damn things down._

"Phoenix One-Three. Battery at full power."

"Phoenix One-Five. Battery at full power."

"Target One acquired."

"Target Two acquired."

"Phoenix One-Three, firing."

"Phoenix One-Five, firing."

Barznav's stomach churned as he watched the radar image. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the missiles near the base perimeter.

_No, no! They're going to hit!_

The missile tracks crossed over the base, and continued on. Seconds later one of the tracks vanished. Then the other. Slight vibrations rippled through the command center.

"The first two missiles have gone off-target and impacted in the forest," said the voice over the loudspeaker. "No damage to the base. Repeat, no damage to the base."

Barznav slouched, relief spreading through his body. That relief only lasted a second before he realized there was one more missile still headed for the base.

"Phoenix One-Five has target acquired. Firing."

Again, Barznav tensed as he watched the missile track go over the base. Seconds later it disappeared, and he felt another, stronger vibration.

He couldn't' breathe. What had it hit? Please not the antennas.

"Damage report," General Sang hollered into the phone.

"The last missile hit one of the barracks. Firefighters and rescue personnel are responding as we speak."

"What about the antennas and our communications facilities?"

"All are intact, Sir."

Barznav exhaled and bent over. _Thank goodness._

"Comrade General," a communications officer spoke up. "The Great Leader wishes to speak with you."

Sang visibly swallowed, then quickly composed himself. "Put him through."

The Midget's face appeared on one of the wall monitors.

"Great Leader of Our Party and Our Nation." Sang bowed. "How may I serve you?"

"First Air Combat Command has informed me that the imperialists have launched missiles at your base. What is your status? Do we still have control of Thulgira?"

"Yes, You Excellency. We used our ZM-87 lasers to disable the guidance systems of the enemy missiles. Two of the missiles crashed into the forests beyond this base. The third missile struck one of our barracks, but all our critical systems are intact."

"Good, good. Excellent. You have done well, Comrade General."

"Thank you, Most Beloved and Respected Leader." Sang bowed. "You are indeed most gracious."

Barznav tried not to roll his eyes.

"Still," The Midget said. "We must assume the imperialists know that your base is where we control Thulgira. Their next attack could be much larger. Bolster the air defenses. More planes. More missiles. Whatever you require, ask and you shall have it."

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Good. Comrade Barznav. Are you there?"

"I am here, Great Leader." He wanted to grimace at using the idiotic title.

"Soon your base will be one of the most secure places in the People's Republic. The imperialists will never be able to penetrate it. And with Thulgira showing he is unstoppable, it is time to expand our war."

"Expand it?"

"Yes. The dogs in the South and their American puppet masters are all but defeated. We will now turn our attention to Japan, repay them for the atrocities they visited on our nation tenfold. Currently, a flotilla of three Japanese destroyers is patrolling to the west of Ullung-do Island in the East Sea. That island is ours! The entire East Sea is ours now! The Japanese must learn that. We will sink those ships, and if the Japanese wish to retaliate, you will send Thulgira after them and wipe them out!"

"Yes, Great Leader."

The Midget smiled. "And be sure to have Thulgira ready for our celebration."

"Celebration?"

"Yes. When The Fatherland has been reunited, we shall have a massive celebration at Kumgangsan Park. I shall be there, along with all our prominent government and military officials, and hundreds of thousands of workers. We shall all be there to celebrate the greatest triumph in Korea's history."

Barznav smiled. "That is a most excellent idea, Great Leader."

Indeed it was. The entire North Korean leadership, all in one place.

Barznav's smile continued to grow. So did The Midget's. The fool. He probably thought Barznav was imagining how glorious the victory celebration will be.

_It will be glorious . . . for me._

In one fell swoop, he would use Thulgira to eliminate the entire North Korean leadership. The country would have no choice but to accept him as its new ruler.

_First this country, then the world._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES: <strong>_USAF – United States Air Force_

_JASSM – Joint Air-to-Surface Standoff Missile_

_Mark One Eyeball – Military slang for the human eye_

_ZM-87 – This is a real world vehicle-mounted laser weapon. In 2003, North Korea reportedly used a ZM-87 to try and blind the pilots of two US Apache attack helicopters. While its primary purpose is to blind troops, it can reportedly be used to scramble electronics as well. _

_East Sea - What the Koreas call the Sea of Japan_

_Kumgangsan Park - Largest national park in North Korea_


	8. Chapter 8

A sliver of light appeared in front of Rice. It grew steadily larger. Soon the light turned into a bland green ceiling. He blinked a couple times and slowly turned his head from left to right. A bed sat on either side of him. Both were occupied. The man on his left had half his face covered with a bandage.

_I'm in a hospital._ He scrunched his face, trying to figure out how he got here. He remembered a bridge, and gunfire.

And a turtle. A giant turtle.

Memories tore through his mind like water bursting from a dam. It all came back to him. Taking out the North Korean Special Purpose Forces on the bridge. Thulgira and Gamera duking it out. That feeling of being inside Gamera's mind. Then . . .

_Oh my God!_

Rice sat up in bed, vaguely aware of a rapid series of beeps from the nearby monitor. He pressed a hand against his chest. It didn't hurt at all.

_What the hell?_

He pulled up the collar of his hospital gown and looked beneath it. There wasn't so much as a scratch anywhere on his torso.

His mouth hung open wordlessly as he stared at the wall in front of him. How could this be possible? Last thing he remembered he had a huge hole in his chest gushing blood. He couldn't recall getting shot or hit with shrapnel. But Gamera had been impaled by Thulgira.

_Gamera._

He slapped a hand just under his throat. His body sagged in relief when he felt his pendant.

A short, stocky dark-haired woman in Army fatigues entered the room. A nurse, he assumed.

"Commander! You're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Uh, fine. Fine." He winced, noticing how dry his throat felt. "Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital at Gwangju Air Base. They brought you here after the retreat."

"Retreat?"

The nurse's face fell. "The line at Daejon fell two days ago. Then yesterday the monster destroyed Kunsan Air Base."

Rice closed his eyes and hung his head. His throat clenched. First Daejon, then Kunsan. How long before Thulgira wiped out Gwangju? Then what? This far south, the only place they could regroup from here was the Korea Strait.

"Um, try not to worry about that now. You need to concentrate on getting better," the nurse tried to say with conviction. "I'll go tell the doctor you're awake."

Rice just stared at her as she left.

"_Try not to worry?" _Was she serious? How could anyone not worry? They were getting their asses kicked. Most of South Korea was under North Korean control. How much longer could they keep fighting? What good would it do, anyway? Thulgira was invincible.

_No. Nothing is invincible. Any opponent can be defeated._

_We will defeat him._

Rice held his breath. That last thought. Had that come from him? It almost sounded like someone, or something, whispered it in the back of his mind.

His muscles tensed. A jolt of pure energy shot through him. He clutched the pendant.

Water surrounded him, yet he didn't get wet. He could also breathe normally. Actually, he felt there, but not there. Did that even make sense?

He felt another presence around him, or maybe part of him.

_Gamera. He's alive!_

Relief and elation surged through him. _Turtle, you are one tough SOB._

_You heal me. I heal you._

There it was again. Another voice in his mind. My God, Gamera was actually talking to him!

He fell back against his pillow, still clutching his pendant. He felt a sort of comfort being connected to Gamera, knowing he was alive. At the same time, uneasiness and confusion plagued him. How was this even possible? How could he be linked to a giant fire-breathing turtle? Was this a permanent thing?

A thought like that should have scared him, but it didn't. It didn't feel like Gamera wanted to control him. He couldn't even say that he fully controlled Gamera. That was probably a good thing. No one man should have control of something so powerful.

_That is why you are a worthy Link._

Rice's muscles knotted. Could anything be more unsettling than another thing's voice in your head?

_Do not be scared. We are linked. Your thoughts. My thoughts. We must be linked for the coming battle._

"Against Thulgira." Rice grimaced, not meaning to speak aloud. He looked at the other wounded men around him. Both appeared to be sleeping.

_Thulgira threatens the world. It must be stopped._

_Where did it come from?_

Gamera did not answer in words. Instead a series of images flashed through Rice's mind. Thulgira climbed out of the sea and stomped across the shore. Not one, but dozens of Thulgiras. Lasers tore through the air, blasting apart massive, gleaming citadels.

A whooshing, whirring sound came from the sky. Gamera. Dozens of Gameras. Lasers and fireballs criss-crossed the air between the two groups of monsters.

"Commander Rice?"

The weird mind movie vanished. He whipped his head to the right to find a tall, lanky man with receding brown hair and glasses walking toward his bed.

"I'm Doctor Vernon, US Army. I'm glad to see you're awake. Nurse Palmer tells me you're feeling well."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Much as I'm glad to hear that, in all honesty, you shouldn't be. You lost a lot of blood, the lower half of your lung was shredded, and several of your ribs were shattered. Not just broke, Commander, shattered. That sent all sorts of splinters throughout your insides. By all rights, you should be dead. Instead, here you are completely healed. If I called The Vatican, they'd without a doubt certify this as a miracle."

Rice glanced down at the pendant in his hand. "Gamera," he whispered.

"What?"

He looked back at Doctor Vernon. "Um, nothing, Doc. Look, like I told the nurse, I feel fine. Any idea when I can get out of this place? There's a war on, and we . . . I mean, I need to get back in it."

"I could discharge you right now. But there are some people who wanted to be informed when you woke up. People from Combined Forces Command."

"What do they want to see me for?"

"Why do you think? You went from being on death's doorstep to suddenly becoming a perfect specimen of health. All the bloodwork we did on you came back normal. Cell samples we took from you and examined showed nothing out of the ordinary. Yet somehow you've completely healed. We even tried to exam that pendant of yours."

"Why?" Rice asked defensively, holding it protectively against his chest.

The veins in Vernon's neck stuck out. "Well, because . . . um, this is going to sound unbelievable. There were times when it actually glowed. When we tried to remove it, it was scorching hot to the touch. It even burned through protective gloves, I'm talking about the kind we use in HAZMAT suits."

Rice smiled.

_The amulet is for you and you alone, _Gamera whispered in his mind.

"Anyway, someone from Combined Forces Command should be here soon. Meantime, are you up to seeing visitors before then?"

"Sure."

Vernon nodded and left the room. A couple minutes later several familiar figures strode through the door.

"Damn, Sir. You look a lot better than the last time we saw you." Candaele flashed him a grin.

Rice grinned back. "It's good to see you guys again. How are you doing?"

"How are we doing?" Senior Chief Warthan gave him an incredulous look. "Who the hell cares how we're doing? None of us had a gaping, bloody hole in our chests."

"The doctors say what happened to you was a genuine miracle," Lieutenant Myung-Dae pointed out. "How . . . How is this possible?"

"Gamera."

"Gamera?" Soto tilted his head. "What's he have to do with this?"

Rice bit his lip, hesitant to answer. But hell, this was his team. More than his team. They were his friends. They'd been there at the bridge when Gamera fought Thulgira. They'd seen what happened to him.

He told them everything. His link with Gamera, how Gamera helped him heal from an otherwise fatal injury, and how imperative it was to stop Thulgira. All of his SEALs, even Myung-Dae, stared at him with their mouths agape when he told them about the movie-like sequence of the ancient war between the Gameras and Thulgiras.

"All of this from a big-ass turtle." Candaele shook his head. "If I hadn't'a seen what happened to you on that bridge, I'd think you were out of your mind, Sir."

"Trust me, sometimes I feel like I'm out of my mind, and I'm the one going through this."

"Attention!" Myung-Dae stood ramrod straight.

The other SEALs looked to the door, and snapped to attention.

A tall, broad-shouldered black man wearing an ACU entered the room. Rice noticed four stars stitched into the man's collar. The name tag on the uniform's left breast read TAYLOR.

As in General Michael Taylor, commander of US Forces Korea and Combined Forces Command.

"Sir!" Rice saluted and tried to get to his feet.

"At ease." Taylor held up a hand. "You stay in bed, Commander."

"Yes, Sir." Rice watched other people file into the room. All were Asian. One he recognized from his first briefing in South Korea. Commander Whan from Defense Security Command. Three of the newcomers were women. One wore fatigues with two stars on the collar, a name tag that read LI, and a tab on the right breast with the words US AIR FORCE. The remaining two women wore civilian clothes. One was attractive and slender with smooth, tan features and long dark hair, a loose-fitting beige shirt, jeans and hiking boots. The other, who was short and had her hair in a bun, wore a pants suit. The final member of the group was a craggy-faced man dressed in black-green-brown splotched fatigues.

Rice cranked an eyebrow. The civilian women and the craggy-faced man didn't look Korean. If anything, they looked Japanese.

"We've been waiting for you to wake up, Commander Rice." A wry grin crossed Taylor's lips. "Jim Rice, eh? Let me guess. Your parents were Red Sox fans."

"Yes, Sir. Big time."

"Hell of a player back in the day. Course, I grew up near Baltimore, so I was an Eddie Murray man myself."

"He was a hell of a player, too."

"That he was. Well, much as I'd love to talk baseball with you, we need to get down to business." Taylor stepped to the side and pointed a hand to the Asians. "I believe you know Commander Whan. General Li here is the CFC's chief of intelligence. And these three are our Japanese contingent. Colonel Shigeru Ishiba is with the Self-Defense Forces Joint Staff Office. Dr. Mayumi Nagamine is the leading expert on giant monsters in Japan, and probably the world. And Miss Ayumi Hara is a translator attached to the Ministry of Defense."

"Commander." Nagamine stepped forward and bowed. "Your pendant. May I see it?" Hara translated for her.

Rice bit his lower lip, hesitant to show it to a stranger, a stranger who might take it.

_Show her, _Gamera whispered. _She is a friend._

"He knows you?" Rice's forehead crinkled as he stared at Nagamine.

"Excuse me."

"Gamera. He knows you."

Taylor, Li and Ishiba all exchanged befuddled looks. Even Hara scrunched her face at him. Still, she spoke again for Nagamine. "I was involved with Gamera when he first fought the Gyaos. He must know me through Asagi."

"Who?"

Nagamine smiled at him. "Please. Show me your pendant, and I'll tell you."

Rice hesitated a moment before holding it up for her to see.

"Yes, that's exactly the same sort of stone Asagi wore when she was linked to Gamera."

"Wait a minute. You mean what's happening to me has happened to someone else before?"

Nagamine nodded. "Yes. A girl named Asagi Kusanagi."

"Why does Gamera need to have a human linked to him?"

"From what Asagi told me, Gamera's human link can be used as a source of strength. It turned out to be very critical in his battle with the last of the original Gyaos. Gamera suffered many injuries and was weakening, but Asagi's will allowed him to overcome it and kill the Gyaos."

"You said Gamera was hurt in that fight," Warthan chimed in. "Did those injuries have any affect on this Asagi girl?"

"Yes. The injuries Gamera suffered, she also suffered. It would appear the same was true for you, Commander."

"Ain't that the truth. The moment Gamera got stabbed, the same thing happened to me. Thank God he transferred some of his strength to me, otherwise I'd be dead."

"How is that even possible?" Li asked in an awed tone.

Nagamine turned to Colonel Ishiba, who scanned everyone around Rice's bed before speaking. "What I am about to tell you is top secret. Contrary to popular belief, Gamera is not a product of nature. It was built by an advanced ancient civilization roughly ten thousand years ago to protect them against the Gyaos."

"And probably Thulgira, too," Rice said. "Or actually, Thulgiras."

"Are you saying there are more of those things?" asked Taylor. "How do you know that?"

"Gamera showed me. It looks like they invaded this civilization you're talking about."

Surprise registered on Nagamine's face. "None of the evidence we recovered suggests they created any other monsters."

"Perhaps there was another civilization that went to war with that one," Myung-Dae suggested, "and they used Thulgira as a weapon, just as the North is doing."

"You could be right, Lieutenant," said Whan. "But an ancient war does not concern us now. Stopping Thulgira in the present is the only thing that matters." He looked to Rice. "You are certain you can use Gamera to kill Thulgira."

"I don't use Gamera, Sir. At least to some extent. I mean, there were times during that fight with Thulgira that he mimicked the sort of moves I'd use in hand-to-hand combat."

"It probably has to do with your military background," Nagamine noted. "I suspect The Links with the ancient Gameras were warriors as well, people strong both physically and mentally."

"That describes a SEAL, and then some," said Taylor. "I guess we're lucky you wound up with that amulet, Commander. Men like you are trained to fight through fatigue and pain to get the job done."

"Like we say, Sir, pain is just weakness leaving the body. You get me out of here, I'll make damn sure Gamera and I put Thulgira down permanently."

"That's what we're counting on. In fact, we even have a plan to make that happen. I'll have one of the nurses get some fatigues for you, then I want you and your unit over in the administration building in a half-hour for a briefing.

**XXXXX**

Rice and his men were there in fifteen minutes. He had jumped out of bed and dressed in a hurry, anxious to get out of the hospital and back in the fight. There wasn't much of South Korea controlled by the South Koreans any more, so time was of the essence to stop Thulgira.

When they entered the briefing room, Rice spotted a solidly built man with chiseled features and intense eyes.

"Commander Kon." Rice's eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the South Korean SEAL. He smiled wide and walked over to him. "Good to see you again, Sir."

"And you." Kon nodded and shook his hand. "It would seem you have cheated death. I never realized that could be one of the benefits of having a giant turtle for a pet."

"Heh! Pets are something you get at a store. This one . . . well, it's kind of a long story."

"General Taylor and Doctor Nagamine have filled me in."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

Kon shrugged. "It is what it is."

Rice chuckled. That was one of the things he admired about Kon. Absolutely nothing fazed the guy, not even a crazy situation like this.

"You know one another?" asked Commander Whan.

"Yeah," Rice answered. "My SEAL Team cross-trained with Commander Kon's my last time here in South Korea."

"That's good," said Taylor. "Now, if you'll all take your seats, we'll get started. General Li."

The head of CFC intelligence turned on the wall monitor, which showed an overhead image of a complex with several large antennas and satellite dishes.

"Just to bring you up to speed, Commander Rice, this is the target for Commander Kon and his SEAL platoon. It's a facility twenty miles north of Kaesong, and it's from here the North Koreans are controlling Thulgira."

Rice held his breath and leaned forward. "How are they doing it?"

"With an extremely low frequency signal from the largest antenna there. Commander Kon's platoon is tasked with neutralizing it."

Rice turned to the Korean SEAL. "No offense to you and your guys, Commander, but it'd be easier, and a lot less risky, to take this place out with some cruise missiles or JDAMs."

"We tried that." Li frowned momentarily. "One of our subs in the Yellow Sea launched three Tomahawks at this complex. Before they could hit their target, all three had their guidance systems scrambled. From what our analysts can determine, it looks like the North Koreans used ZM-87 lasers."

Rice sighed. He knew about those weapons. The North Koreans used them several years ago to try and blind some US Army helicopter pilots along the DMZ. It was also thought the ZM-87s could be used to disrupt the electronics of guided weapons.

_I guess we found out the hard way they can._

"We also ruled out a massive air strike against the complex." Taylor leaned back in his seat. "We don't have enough planes in-country to carry it out. Plus the North has increased its anti-air assets in and around the complex, and has at least a dozen MiG-29s and MiG-21s covering the area."

"Our best chance," said Li, "is for Commander Kon's SEALs to infiltrate the complex and destroy the antenna. But that's just one part of their mission. The other is to retrieve a high value target."

The image on the screen changed to show a portly middle-aged man staring straight up.

"This was taken by a Global Hawk minutes before the cruise missile strike. Our guess is he heard the noise from the missiles and looked up. Lucky for us he did, because we just may have found the man responsible for controlling Thulgira."

"So who is this guy?" Rice nodded to the screen.

"Doctor Uldis Barznav," answered Li.

"A Russian?" asked Warthan.

"A Latvian, actually. Though during the Cold War, he did work for the KGB in a directorate that conducted research into some rather . . . unique methods of combat and espionage. Barznav's specialty was using radio waves to control animals. And he did have some success, using dogs and wolves to attack people with the flick of a switch. But when the Soviet Union collapsed, Barznav's section was shut down, and he found himself out of a job."

"Until the North Koreans offered him one," muttered Rice.

Li nodded. "We want Commander Kon's SEALs to capture Barznav and bring him back here so we can find out what he knows, and maybe use that knowledge to prevent any more giant monster attacks."

_Or use those monsters as weapons. _His insides tightened. Would they try to use Barznav's knowledge to control Gamera?

_No. No way I'll let that happen._

His fear grew, to the point he couldn't breathe. Would he actually oppose his own government, the government he had served for eight years? He loved his country, would fight and die for it. But it wasn't right to control Gamera. Work with him as a partner, of sorts, yes. But to control him, make him do things he may not want? And who's to say someone in the US government wouldn't become power mad and use Gamera like the North Koreans used Thulgira.

_Absolute power corrupts absolutely._

Rice closed his eyes tight, praying his worries never became reality.

He turned to Kon. "So how do you plan on infiltrating this place?"

"My platoon will fly there aboard two United States Marine Corps V-22 Ospreys launched from our amphibious ship _Dokdo_. We'll go in at night, of course, fly at low level, and land eight kilometers from the complex. From there we'll hike in, destroy the antenna, and secure Doctor Barznav."

"You got good intel on the base? Number of personnel? Defenses? Layout?"

It was Whan who answered. "Commander Kon will receive good intelligence and assistance from assets in the North."

Whan didn't elaborate on those "assets." Rice didn't expect him to, but he figured Whan was talking about spies. That didn't surprise him. The South Koreans' spy network in the North had to be as extensive as the North's was here.

"Our main concern is sailing a warship like the _Dokdo_ so close to North Korea," Whan continued. "If they spot it, they'll assume that we are about to conduct some sort of operation on their soil. Therefore, we will have _Dokdo _and her escorts behave as though they are conducting anti-submarine operations. We hope that will allay any suspicions on the North Koreans' part."

"In addition," Colonel Ishiba spoke. "My government is sending a flotilla of six ships to the Yellow Sea, along with a squadron of F-15s, to conduct patrols, and hopefully draw some of the North Koreans' attention away from the _Dokdo's _group."

Rice drew his head back in astonishment. "You're actually sending combat forces into this war? Doesn't that go against Article Nine of your constitution?"

"Japan's posture in this war changed dramatically while you were in your coma. Prior to the fall of Daejon, the North Koreans sent a squadron of missile boats to attack three of our destroyers patrolling near Ullung-do Island. They sank the _Hamagiri _and damaged the _Shimakaze. _We managed to sink four of their boats before they withdrew."

Rice let out a breath of incredulity. The crazy Umpa-Lumpa up north hadn't even finished taking over the rest of South Korea, and he wanted to pick a fight with another country?

_Then again, when he has a weapon like Thulgira, what does one more dog in the fight matter?_

"Despite this unprovoked attack on our ships," Ishiba continued, "we are forbidden by our constitution from declaring war on North Korea. However, The Diet has passed a resolution ordering the Defense Forces to take all necessary steps to protect Japanese lives and property from North Korean aggression."

"So what exactly does that mean?" Rice asked. "Are the Japanese going to start blasting North Korean ships and planes? Or actually send ground troops here?"

Ishiba shook his head. "Our Defense Forces are just that. Strictly for defense. We can only engage the North Koreans if we are fired upon first. As for sending ground forces here, there is much resistance to that idea. Many in my country might construe that as a return to Japanese militarism. And in spite of the current situation, such a move may not sit well with the Koreans, given some of the . . . issues that arose during the Japanese occupation of the peninsula."

Rice noticed anger lines digging into the faces of both Kon and Whan.

"Even if the Japanese did approve sending ground forces to Korea," Taylor began, "I doubt the commitment would be very large. They'd likely want to keep the bulk of their troops on the Home Islands in case Thulgira invades."

Rice looked to Ishiba. "No offense, Colonel, but I've seen Thulgira in action. Unless you have some super secret weapon we don't know about, I doubt your forces will be any more successful than ours or the South Koreans."

To his surprise, Ishiba gave him a wry grin. "We do have a secret weapon, Commander Rice. You. You and Gamera."

Rice nodded and shifted his gaze to General Taylor. "Just tell me where and when, Sir. Gamera'll be ready."

Taylor took the remote control from Li and put a map of the southern part of the peninsula on the screen. He got out of his seat and pointed to a spot to the northwest of Pusan. "Here. Changwon. That's where our remaining forces in the west are gathering. That should make an inviting target for Thulgira, and that's what we're counting on. That's where you and your SEALs will deploy, Commander. As soon as Commander Kon and his men neutralize that antenna, you call in Gamera. Your SEALs will act as bodyguards for you while you and Gamera engage Thulgira. Lieutenant Myung-Dae. Senior Chief Warthan. As far as you're concerned, Commander Rice is _the_ most important person on this peninsula. You keep his ass alive at all costs."

"Yes, Sir," they both replied.

A solemn look fell over Taylor's face. "Commander. This is our last roll of the dice. If we can't stop Thulgira this time . . . well, I don't have to spell it out for you, do I?"

"No, Sir." Rice's stomach clenched. If they couldn't defeat Thulgira, South Korea was finished. Then it would be Japan's turn.

And he couldn't imagine the crazy Umpa-Lumpa not turning Thulgira loose on the United States.

Icy blades of fear dug into his bones. He pictured Rita, pictured his parents, and the rest of his friends and family stateside.

That fear turned toward him. He tried to push it aside. It proved hard to do with the reality of the situation staring him right in the face.

At Changwon, one of two things would happen. Either he and Gamera would defeat Thulgira, or they would die.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_ACU – Army Combat Uniform, the replacement for the Battle Dress Uniform, aka BDU._

_JDAM – Joint Direct Attack Munition_

_Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution states, "The Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as a means of settling international disputes . . . The right of belligerency of the state will not be recognized."_


	9. Chapter 9

Commander Kon never considered himself a sentimental man. Even so, he couldn't help but feel a tingle of pride every time he walked through the steel corridors of the Republic of Korea Ship _Dokdo._

While it resembled a shrunken aircraft carrier, _Dokdo's_ official designation was an LPH, Landing Platform Helicopter. But sometimes, Kon liked to consider it a carrier. The ship was roughly the same size as Spain's carrier, the _Principe de Asturias. _Along with her ten helicopters, _Dokdo _also carried six Harrier jump jets, which the Republic got on loan from the British until they took delivery of the more advanced American F-35s. With a crew of 700, room to carry 720 marines and around 15 combat vehicles, and a top speed of 23 knots - fast for an amphibious ship her size - _Dokdo _represented a huge step toward making South Korea a true blue-water navy.

_Not that our naval dreams will matter if we do not destroy the antenna controlling Thulgira._

Kon straightened his back and continued down the corridor. He summoned all the confidence he possessed. In his 13 years in the navy, he had never, _ever, _failed at any task his superiors assigned him. He would not fail this time.

He could not afford to.

Kon opened a hatch and entered the cramped, semi-dark Combat Information Center. Several officers and sailors sat at consoles and stared into various screens. Larger monitors dominated the bulkheads across from him, showing radar images or video feeds from _Dokdo_ and the other ships in her group. To his left, two men used grease pencils to draw on a plot board. The corners of Kon's mouth briefly twitched. Even in the age of satellites and computers and 3-D imaging, ships still used old-fashioned, clear plastic plot boards.

"Ah, Commander Kon."

Kon turned to the right and spotted a short man with a round face and glasses.

"Captain." He snapped to attention and saluted Captain Byung-Jae, _Dokdo's_ skipper. "You wanted to see me?"

Byung-Jae returned the salute. "Yes. We have some updated intelligence on your target." He took a folder from one of his officers and handed it to him. "These were taken by an American Global Hawk less than an hour ago."

Kon studied the images. One photo showed two groups of people beyond the fenceline. Some were digging with shovels, others knelt on the ground, placing something into the freshly dug holes.

_Landmines. _

A danger, but one they could handle. He and his SEALs didn't plan on infiltrating the complex from those directions anyway. Thanks to their assets in the North, they would be going right through the front gate.

_So long as they are ready when we land._ If they weren't, well, they'd just have to find another way in.

And thanks to these pictures, he knew which direction _not_ to go.

The Global Hawk also identified the position of one of the ZM-87 lasers, stationed roughly two kilometers from the complex. Kon wondered how much good that would do him. The ZM-87 was mounted on a truck. It could be somewhere else by the time they arrived.

His biggest concern was the increased defenses around the base. Two machine gun nests now covered the front gate outside the fence. The North Koreans also added more anti-air systems in and around the complex. The SAMs didn't concern him much. The anti-aircraft guns did. The S-60s and the ZSU-23s could easily be used in an anti-personnel role. Their big rounds, designed to tear through the metal frames of jets, could just as easily tear through human flesh.

_I may have to assign extra personnel to neutralize them. _He stifled a groan. He hated changing plans hours away from an operation, but that was the way things went in the world of special operations. You either adapted quickly, or you died.

"Thank you, Captain. Is there anything else to report from the target area?"

"Yes." Byung-Jae waved for him to follow. They walked over to a row of consoles and stood behind a slight, bespectacled man.

"This is Lieutenant Sehang, our meteorological officer. Lieutenant, Commander Kon of the Naval Special Warfare Brigade."

"Sir." Sehang nodded to him.

"I believe you have something to show the Commander that could affect his mission."

"Yes, Captain." Sehang tapped on his keyboard and brought up a digital map of Korea on his screen. He then spoke in a monotone voice. "We are currently tracking a thunderstorm approaching from Haeju Bay. It is moving in a southeasterly direction at twenty miles per hour. By our estimates, it will settle over Kaesong an hour before your unit is scheduled to land."

Kon fought off a frown. _Another complication we can do without._

"Any idea how long the storm will last over Kaesong?"

"Anywhere from three to five hours. That is the best estimate I can give you."

"What about lightning and wind conditions?"

"We have detected several lightning strikes within the storm cell. As for wind, speeds can range anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five miles per hour from the southeast."

Kon said nothing. He just stared at the animated blob of green with some sprinkles of yellow and red mixed in as it blotted out much of the North Korean west coast. His mind ran down the problems his platoon would likely encounter on the ground. Mud and limited visibility, which would slow their progress to the target. The lightning could interfere with their radios and other electronic equipment. He and the others would also be soaked, cold and uncomfortable. That last part didn't concern him. All SEALs lived like that their first few weeks of training.

"Are the Osprey pilots aware of this storm?" asked Kon.

"Yes, Commander," Sehang replied. "My department will provide them with updates every half-hour until they take-off."

"Good." Kon nodded, anxious to get back to his SEAL platoon. They'd have to make some adjustments to their assault plan, factoring in the added anti-aircraft weapons and the thunderstorm.

"Please keep me informed also of this storm's progress. We must be -"

"Captain!" A paunchy man with the insignia of a lieutenant stood up by a row of consoles to the right. _Dokdo's _detection/tracking officer, Kon realized. "Radar has detected six aircraft inbound from the north, not squawking proper IFF."

"Range?"

"Sixty kilometers, bearing zero-two-three."

"Watch officer, sound general quarters. Tactical Action Officer, alert the other ships."

High-pitched wails blared throughout the CIC, and the rest of the ship. Kon stepped backwards until he pressed against the wall and quietly observed the situation.

"The other ships have the bandits on radar," reported the TAO. "All anti-aircraft missiles and guns are standing by."

Byung-Jae nodded, then turned to his left. "Air Control Officer. Vector our CAP toward the bandits and launch our Alert Five Harriers."

"Vectoring CAP toward the bandits, aye. Launching Alert Five Harriers, aye."

"Captain," blurted the tracking/detection officer. "Bandits positively identified. Six North Korean MiG-23 fighter-bombers."

Kon felt his breathing increase as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He fixed his gaze on one of the monitors that showed the six MiG-23s rocketing toward _Dokdo's_ group. Two other tracks headed right for them, the Harriers on Combat Air Patrol duty.

"Comet Three-Three," the voice of one of the Harrier pilots came through the intercom. "Bandits acquired on radar. Forty kilometers and closing. Locking on AMRAAMs . . . Good tone."

"Comet Three-Five. AMRAAM lock, good tone also."

"Comet Three-Three. Fox Three."

"Comet Three-Five. Fox Three."

Four new tracks appeared on the display screen. AMRAAM medium-range missiles launched by the Harriers. Kon held his breath, watching the missile tracks close with the MiGs. Closer. Closer.

Several of the MiG symbols rapidly changed direction. No doubt jinking and dumping chaff and flares to throw off the incoming missiles.

One MiG symbol vanished. Then another. Another.

"Splash one . . . splash two . . . Three! Splash three bandits!"

A new missile track appeared. This one from one of the MiGs.

"Enemy missile launch!" hollered Comet Three-Three. "Infra-red missile launch! Deploying flares!"

Now the Harriers banked and dove. Tension coiled around Kon as his eyes flickered between the missile track and the Harriers.

_Miss . . . miss . . . miss._

It did. The missile flew between the Harriers and continued through the sky.

"Alert Five Harriers airborne," announced the Air Control Officer.

The screen now showed the South and North Korean jets intermingled. Kon saw one of the Harriers drop behind a MiG-23.

"Comet Three-Three. Fox Two."

The Harrier fired a Sidewinder heat-seeking missile. Kon drew a breath as he watched the missile track merge with the MiG. Both suddenly vanished.

"Splash one! Repeat, splash one bandit."

"I doubt there will be any MiGs left by the time the Alert Five Harriers get there," Captain Byung-Jae said to no one in particular. Kon caught a couple of the CIC personnel smiling.

"Captain," the TAO called out. "Message from the _Kang Gamchan._ She reports six surface contacts inbound from the east, bearing zero-four-six. Thirty kilometers and closing."

Kon's chest tightened. First MiGs, now ships? Was it just the North Koreans wanting to take out one of the Republic's largest surface ships, or did they suspect they might try to attack the complex at Kaesong?

_We're more than 120 kilometers from Kaesong. They cannot suspect that._

He refocused on the display. Only one MiG-23 remained, and it had turned tail and was heading back to North Korea.

"Vector all Harriers toward the surface contacts," ordered Captain Byung-Jae.

"We have a feed coming through from the P-3," said the TAO. Seconds later a video image appeared on one of the monitors, broadcast live from the P-3 Orion patrol plane supporting _Dokdo's _group. Kon saw five small, oblong vessels with pointy bows racing across the water. They surrounded a stubby ship only slightly bigger that sported a small superstructure and a round forward-mounted turret.

He instantly recognized all the vessels. Three Sohung-class missile boats, two Ku Sung-class torpedo boats, and in the middle, a Sariwon-class corvette.

Relics, all of them. Just like most of the surface ships in the North Korean Navy. _Kang Gamchan, _one of the Republic's most advanced destroyers, could easily destroy that entire flotilla single-handedly.

A cloud of orange and black obscured all three Sohungs. Six contrails sped away from the little ships.

"Missile launch!" shouted the surface search radar operator. "Six tracks. Repeat, six tracks. All inbound to our position. Twenty kilometers and closing."

"They're likely SS-N-2s," noted the TAO. "Old but still effective."

"Evasive maneuvers," ordered Byung-Jae. "Weapons officer, prepare RAM and Goalkeepers for action."

"RAM and Goalkeepers online and ready to fire."

Kon felt the _Dokdo _turn sharply to starboard. His eyes remained fixed on the display screen. The SS-N-2s drew closer. Fifteen kilometers. Ten. Kon watched the _Kang Gamchan_ and the two Pohang-class corvettes _Seongnam and Yeongju _position themselves between the _Dokdo _and the incoming missiles.

Kon felt every muscle in his face tighten as the missile tracks approached. Eight kilometers away. Seven . . . six . . . five.

One of the video feeds from the _Kang Gamchan_ showed flashes of smoke and flame, and trails of fire racing over the waves. RIM-116 Rolling Airframe Missiles.

One of the SS-N-2s disappeared from the display. Then two . . . three . . . four.

The remaining two SS-N-2s streaked toward _Dokdo. _Kon's shoulders knotted. Three kilometers. Two.

_Seongnam _and _Yeongju_ pounded away with their twin rapid-fire 40mm cannons. Tracers flashed through the air. Kon hoped to see explosions signifying the deaths of the last two missiles.

He did not.

Almost one kilometer left.

A puff of smoke erupted from _Kang Gamchan's _side. A fireball appeared in midair. That had to be the destroyer's Goalkeeper, a gatling gun that unleashed a spray of hundreds of 30mm rounds in mere seconds.

Another puff of smoke. Another fireball. No more missiles.

Kon joined the collective sigh of relief throughout the CIC. He checked the screen again.

_Don't relax just yet._

The North Korean flotilla kept coming. They may have expended all their surface-to-surface missiles, but those Ku Sungs could still hurt them with their torpedoes. And if they got close enough, all six ships had plenty of guns to give them grief.

More contrails rose from _Dokdo's_ three escorts. Harpoon missiles, a much more advanced anti-ship missile than the Soviet-made SS-N-2.

Kon watched the feed from the P-3. The North Korean ships began zigzagging. A few even launched chaff. Tracers shot into the sky in all directions.

A cylindrical object dropped straight down on one of the missile boats. It vanished in a volcanic blast of fire and water. Seconds later another missile boat exploded into nothingness. The Harpoons also took out the last Sohung-class missile boat and one of the Ku Sung torpedo boats.

That still left the corvette and the other torpedo boat, which were now in visual range of _Dokdo's _group.

"Torpedoes in the water!" hollered the sonar operator. "Two torpedoes bearing one-six-five!"

"Evasive maneuvers!" ordered the captain.

Again Kon swayed as _Dokdo _turned sharply to avoid the torpedoes from the Ku Sung. On one of the video monitors, he watched both Pohang-class corvettes open up with their 76mm guns. Huge water spouts rose around the torpedo boat. The Sariwon-class corvette fired its 85mm gun. Shells splashed between the _Dokdo _and the _Kang Gamchan. _

Stubby swept-winged aircraft streaked into view on the P-3's feed. The Harriers from _Dokdo. _Unfortunately, their air-to-air missiles were no good against ships.

The same could not be said for their twin 25mm cannons.

The Harriers dove on the North Korean ships. Flames rippled from their bellies. Tracers stitched across the water and across the ships. Smoke and flames gushed from the torpedo boat.

"Both enemy torpedoes missed," announced the sonar operator. "Repeat. Both torpedoes missed."

Kon felt the tension dissolve from his muscles. He almost slumped in relief, but maintained his posture. The feed from the P-3 showed a fireball blossoming from the Sariwon-class corvette. Either one of the Pohangs hit it with their 76mm guns, or the shell came from _Kang Gamchan's_ five-incher. Either way, Kon doubted the enemy ship could survive another hi-

"Torpedoes!" cried out the sonar operator. "Two torpedoes bearing two-five-seven! Five thousand meters and closing!"

Kon's eyes widened. His chest tightened in dread. Where the hell had those torpedoes come from? Both North Korean torpedo boats had been neutralized.

"Hard to port!" Captain Byung-Jae hollered. "Hard to port! Source of that launch!"

"Sub-surface," answered the sonar operator. "There must be an enemy submarine near . . . wait!" He slapped his hands over his headphones. "Two more launches! Two torpedoes, bearing three-one-six. They're headed for _Kang Gamchan!"_

"_Kang Gamchan _is aware of the torpedoes and is taking evasive action," the TAO notified them.

"First set of torpedoes, four thousand meters and closing."

Kon banged a fist against the side of his leg. He had to do something! But what could he do? It was up to Captain Byung-Jae and his crew to fight the ship. He was just a passenger, a passenger with the most critical mission in his nation's history entrusted to him and his SEALs. Now that mission was jeopardized, and couldn't do a damn thing about it.

_Trust in this crew. They must be good to serve on a ship like this._

The thought did nothing to alleviate his helplessness. Men like him acted, they did not let others act for them.

"Two thousand meters and closing," announced the sonar operator.

Sweat formed on Kon's brow. He tried to push down his mounting fear of his mission failing before they could even launch.

_Even if we die, there is still Commander Rice and Gamera._

_And what if they fail?_

_Dokdo _swerved again.

"One thousand meters and closing . . . five hundred meters!"

Byung-Jae snatched the microphone connected to _Dokdo's_ shipwide intercom. "All hands, brace for impact! All hands, brace for impact!"

Kon pressed himself hard against the bulkhead. He held his breath, praying the torpedoes would miss.

A deafening crash filled the air. A quake tore through the entire ship. Kon flew off the bulkhead. He twisted and landed on his back, hard. Pain slammed into his muscles and bones. He clenched his teeth and groaned. Cries of pain and panic rose all around him.

He rolled on his stomach and pushed himself up, scanning the CIC. Half the screens on the bulkhead and the consoles had gone black. Several sailors and officers picked themselves off the floor. A few had trickles of blood running down their faces. A couple gripped their arms, their faces twisted in agony.

The captain ordered those men with obvious broken bones to report to sick bay, then asked for a damage report.

"Two hits to port, both near the stern," stated the CIC Watch Officer. "Flooding in the lower decks. Engine One and Engine Two have suffered severe damage. There is also a fire in the hangar."

Byung-Jae snatched up a phone from his console. "Bridge, Captain. Can you still maneuver . . . At what speed . . . ten knots!" He scowled at the news. "Keep moving, best possible speed. We still have an enemy sub out there. Let's not make things easy for it. Captain out."

"Captain," called out the TAO. "Both torpedoes missed the _Kang Gamchan."_

"At least someone is luckier than us. Do they know where the submarine is?"

"Yes, Captain. They report it is over a kilometer away from us. The sub is identified as a Ming-class. Wait, Sir." The TAO held a phone to his ear. "_Kang Gamchan_ has launched two anti-submarine torpedoes at the enemy."

"Two more torpedoes in the water!" hollered the sonar officer.

"From _Kang Gamchan?"_ asked the captain.

"No, Sir. Enemy torpedoes. Bearing one-nine-nine, headed straight for us. Four thousand meters and closing."

Byung-Jae's jaw tightened. He swung his head toward Kon. "Commander, I don't see any way we can avoid those torpedoes. You and your men must launch now."

Kon clenched his teeth. They still had eighty miles to go to reach their launch point, and it was still daylight. But with two more torpedoes ready to tear into the damaged ship, what choice did they have?

"Yes, Sir."

"Good luck."

Kon snapped off a quick salute and hurried out of the CIC. The loudspeakers blared in both Korean and English. "All Naval Special Warfare Brigade and US Marine Corps flight personnel, report to your aircraft and prepare for immediate launch."

Kon took the metal steps two at a time. He had to press against a bulkhead to allow three sailors to rush past him. Probably part of a damage control party. He again took off through the corridors and caught sight of the hatch leading to the flight deck.

A tremendous thunderclap drilled into his ears. The entire world shook. He slammed against a bulkhead and crumpled to the ground.

Pain lashed his body, especially his shoulder and back. Groaning, he slowly rose to his feet, flexing his right hand and running his fingers up his arm. He grimaced a couple times. It hurt, but it didn't feel like anything was broken.

At least he hoped.

Kon noticed something else. He was standing at an angle. No, not correct. _Dokdo _was at an angle. Ten degrees, he estimated.

"Commander!"

He looked up and saw a group of men in dark uniforms hurrying toward him, led by a stocky man with a weathered face.

"Chief Park." He nodded as his senior NCO approached, followed by the rest of his SEALs and the American flight crews. "Is everyone present and accounted for?"

"Yes, Sir." Park handed him his gear and weapons. "We had better get moving. I don't think this ship will last much longer."

"I'm afraid you're right." Kon felt the _Dokdo_ list at fifteen degrees.

He led the SEALs and US Marines outside. Acrid smoke immediately buffeted his face. He coughed as he looked around the flight deck. Flames and black smoke consumed _Dokdo's _stern. Teams of firefighters attacked the blaze with hoses.

The SEALs and Marines sprinted toward a pair of whale-like aircraft with sloped tails and huge propellers on each wingtip. V-22 Ospreys. Kon pumped his legs furiously, _Dokdo's _list making it feel like running up hill. He estimated it at almost twenty degrees.

A huge white bubble broke the surface in the distance. Kon guessed one or both of _Kang Gamchan's _torpedoes hit the North Korean submarine.

Too little, too late.

The Marine pilots and crew chiefs entered the tilt-rotor aircraft first, urged on by the deckhands. A half-minute later the rear ramps started to come down.

"The North Koreans added more anti-aircraft weapons at the complex," he told Chief Petty Officer Park. "There is also a thunderstorm bearing down on Kaesong. I'll provide you more details after we reach the landing zone."

"Yes, Sir." Park nodded to him, then led half the SEAL platoon to the second Osprey.

Kon and the nineteen remaining SEALs scrambled inside the first Osprey. The second everyone was onboard, the American crew chief raised the ramp. Kon raced through the cargo hold and onto the flight deck. The pilot and the co-pilot, Captain Harrah and Lieutenant Fitzsimmons, frantically pressed buttons and flipped switches.

"No time to rundown the checklist," Harrah said. "We don't get outta here now, we become submariners instead of pilots."

"I heard that," Fitzsimmons replied. "Engines at sixty percent power . . . seventy . . . eighty."

"Transitioning to vertical flight mode."

Kon looked out the windows. The Osprey's large propellers and nacelles began tilting toward the sky."

"All right, Fitz, we're good to go."

"Roger." Fitzsimmons signaled to the deckhands to remove the chock blocks keeping the aircraft in place

Kon pressed his hands against the sides of the doorway as the Osprey slid to the right.

"Shit, shit shit!" Harrah cursed. "Hang on!"

The Marine captain mashed pedals and yanked back on the controls. The Osprey wobbled and lifted off the deck. It rose about forty feet before Harrah twisted the controls left. The Osprey turned. Kon looked out the pilot's side window. The other Osprey also slid down the deck, but recovered, turned and headed toward the water.

Kon breathed easier. At least something finally went ri-

A huge fireball tore through the _Dodko's_ deck. Tremors from the explosions hammered the Osprey. Both the pilot and co-pilot fought to keep the aircraft level.

Kon's eyes widened as the explosion tossed an SH-60 into the air. The helicopter spiraled across the deck . . . . and smashed into the other Osprey's tail section. The tilt-rotor whipped around in a 180, its tail ripped away.

"Holy shit!" Harrah gawked out the window as the other Osprey nosed down. Its left propeller struck the side of the _Dokdo._ The blades shattered, sending pieces flying off in all directions, including into the Osprey itself. The shattered fuselage bounced off the side and crashed into the sea.

A blade of nausea slashed at Kon's stomach. His throat clenched as he thought of Chief Park and the other SEALs onboard that Osprey.

"Nightshade Two, Nightshade Two, do you copy," Fitzsimmons said into the radio. "Nightshade Two, please respond."

As expected, there was no response.

Kon closed his eyes and lowered his head. Half his platoon had died in the blink of an eye. Men he had served with for years. Images of their families spooled through his mind.

He drew a breath and held it. Much as he wanted to, he didn't have time to mourn Park and the others right now. The mission came before everything else.

"Crap! Look out!" Fitzsimmons shouted.

Kon looked up. Hammer blows rocked the Osprey. Yellow tracers zipped by the Osprey. He looked down at the sea. More rounds came up from the Sariwon corvette and the Ku Sung torpedo boat. Even though both vessels were burning, they still had some fight left in them.

Harrah yanked the controls hard left. The Osprey stood on its left wingtip and banked away from the anti-aircraft fire.

"Aw, dammit." Fitzsimmons scowled as he stared out the window. "We've got holes in the starboard wing. Looks like one round went through the nacelle."

"Yeah, I'm getting a drop in oil pressure from the starboard engine."

"Can you still make it to the landing zone?" Kon asked.

Harrah turned to him. "It's gonna be touch and go the way the engine is, Commander, but we'll do our damnedest. But, well, you guys are gonna be working at half-strength. Can you still pull off your mission?"

Kon's face stiffened. "We must. We have no choice."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_Blue-Water Navy: Term for a navy with global reach, as opposed to a green-water navy geared toward a coastal defense role._

_IFF: Identification Friend or Foe. A code transmitted by military aircraft that shows if they are friendly or not._

_AMRAAM: Advanced Medium Range Air-to-Air Missile._

_Fox Three: Fighter pilot slang for launching a radar-guided missile._

_Fox Two: Fighter pilot slang for launching a heat-seeking missile._


	10. Chapter 10

Rice sat within the foliage near the top of Mount Bulmo, rubbing the pendant between his thumb and forefinger. He thought back to that night on the beach, the night he proposed to Rita, when this stone washed up by her feet.

_I wonder what she'd think if she knew her little good luck charm might be our last chance to stop Thulgira and the North Koreans._

He pictured her in his mind's eye. What was she doing back in San Diego? Probably worrying herself to death over him. There sure as hell wasn't much good news regarding the war, unless you were North Korean. Did the Navy tell her about his injury? Did that make her even more afraid for him? God, what he wouldn't give to be with her right now, even for a minute.

_You'll see her again._

He held on to that thought, let it give him strength, let it motivate him to help Gamera stop Thulgira once and for all.

Rice peered through the bushes at the sprawling urban landscape of Changwon. The city was blacked out, not that it mattered to his night vision goggles. He scanned the streets, clogged with all manner of vehicles. Many people opted to leave their cars and trucks and flee on foot. Probably to Pusan. It wasn't like there were too many other places for them to go.

His gaze shifted to the alluvial plain to the northeast. American and South Korean soldiers, tanks, infantry fighting vehicles and artillery stretched across the flat land. Bait for Thulgira.

_Some bait. _The troops and weapons down there represented the bulk of the US and ROK's remaining combat forces. Destroy them, and the North Koreans could easily march into Pusan and complete their conquest of South Korea.

Rice checked around him. Warthan, Myung-Dae, Soto and Engle also concealed themselves within the foliage. Candale and Mongkut were stationed further out, covering the approaches to his position. No longer his SEALS. Now his bodyguards. The thought didn't sit well with him. It made him sound weak. His job was to protect people. People didn't need to protect him.

Not that he could argue the point with the head of Combined Forces Command. And, while he hated to admit it, General Taylor was correct. Rice's pendant did make him the most important man in South Korea right now. They couldn't afford any harm to befall him.

"Soto. What's Thulgira's status?" The unit's communications specialist kept tabs on the monster via a live link from a Global Hawk.

"Still headed our way. The ugly SOB should reach the outskirts of Changwon in about five hours."

_I am ready, _Rice heard Gamera's thoughts.

_Soon, buddy. Soon._

He stared past the mountains bordering the city, thinking of another group of SEALs much further north.

_It's all on you, Kon. As a great philosopher once said, "Git 'er done."_

**XXXXX**

The flight was more tense than Commander Kon would care to admit. The starboard engine constantly gave the pilots trouble, and came close to stalling at least four times. As low as they were to the water, there would be no time to recover from any stall.

_Just get us there. Just get us there. _Kon repeated the mantra in his head.

He checked on the other SEALs. Most sat hunched over, rubbing their hands together, lost in their own thoughts. Or probably, lost in just one thought.

_Please don't crash._

The damaged engine also made the flight painstakingly slow. Kon doubted the V-22 Osprey had gotten over 230 miles-per-hour at any time. The tilt-rotor had a maximum speed of more than 340 mph. Kon wondered how far behind schedule they would be once they landed.

_If we land at all._

A steady patter could be heard and felt throughout the Osprey. Kon groaned. That would be the rain _Dokdo's_ meteorologist had predicted. It made the Osprey shudder constantly.

A loud cough from the starboard engine penetrated the cabin. Kon's shoulders tensed. He bit his lower lip until it hurt. He noticed many of the other SEALs do the same. They were definitely afraid. He was afraid.

But like him, they would rather die than show their fear.

Thankfully, the Osprey stayed in the air.

"Okay, Commander," Fitzsimmons contacted him through his helmet's internal communications system. "We are feet dry."

"Roger." Kon informed the other SEALs that they had just crossed the North Korean coastline. Several of them blew out long sighs of relief. Not long now until they reached their landing zone.

Another sick groan came from the starboard engine.

Everyone tensed again.

The Osprey remained airborne.

Minutes later, Kon heard Harrah say, "Transitioning to vertical flight."

The Osprey slowed to a crawl, then dipped to the right. Kon held his breath. _Not now. Not when we're this close._

The pilots leveled out the aircraft. Kon still held his breath until he felt a soft bump underneath him.

They had finally landed.

More importantly, they had landed in one piece.

The rear ramp came down, revealing a driving rainstorm outside.

"In-Su," Kon called out to a tall, stout SEAL. With the death of Chief Petty Officer Park, Petty Officer First Class In-Su was now the unit's senior NCO.

"Yes, Sir."

"Get the men outside. I shall join you in a minute."

"Yes, Sir."

As the SEALs hustled out of the Osprey, Kon jogged to the flight deck.

"Gentlemen," he said to the Marine pilots. "I thank you for getting us to our objective safely, in spite of the damage to your aircraft. Your flying was truly exceptional."

"Thank you, Sir," replied Captain Harrah. "Honestly, I think it was more luck than skill that got us here, but we'll take the compliment."

Kon grinned briefly. "What will you do now?" The original plan called for the Ospreys to fly back to _Dokdo, _refuel, then return for the SEALs once they completed their mission. But _Dokdo _was likley at the bottom of the Yellow Sea, along with the other Osprey, and Kon doubted this Osprey would survive a second trip here.

"The closest ship we can land on is the _George Washington," _said Harrah, "and she's probably a hundred-fifty miles south. No way we're gonna make it there in this bird. The best we can do is get as far from the coast as we can, ditch, and hope our side picks us up before the bad guys."

Kon's jaw stiffened. That was extremely risky, but he couldn't see any other choice for the Americans.

"Good luck to you." He shook both Harrah's and Fitzsimmons' hands.

"Same to you, Commander," said Harrah.

"Good luck, Sir," Fitzsimmons added. "Kick some ass for us."

"We intend to, Lieutenant."

Kon shook hands with the crew chief and wished him good luck before exiting the Osprey. The other SEALs waited for him by a clump of trees. He was completely drenched by the time he reached them.

The Osprey rose into the dark, rainy sky as Kon pulled his sealed orders from under his fatigues. He tore open the packet and pulled out the documents, each one covered in a clear waterproof folder. Using an infrared flashlight, he read each one, with In-Su and a few other SEALs hovering around him. The documents gave him names and photos of their contacts near Kaesong, along with a map and GPS coordinates for their rendezvous point. He also memorized the code phrase and response for the contacts.

Kon stuffed the documents back into his fatigues and ordered the men to move out. He sent two SEALs, Young Ho and Kyu Bok, forty yards ahead to scout their path and watch for enemy patrols and treacherous terrain.

They encountered no North Korean troops. The terrain, however, gave them some challenges. A few slopes had completely turned to mud and slowed their progress. More than a few SEALs slipped and fell. Aside from some cuts and bruises, none were seriously injured.

Three miles into their march the thumping of rotorblades carried over the sound of the rain. They ducked behind trees and under bushes as a helicopter with a bulbous fuselage flew overhead. A Z-5, a Chinese-made copy of the old Soviet Mi-4 Hound.

The helicopter shined a searchlight into the woods. Apparently it didn't spot any of the SEALs as it continued on. Kon observed it as its bright white searchlight grew smaller. He thought back to the Osprey's rough flight through the rain, and wondered if the ancient Z-5 fared even worse in this weather.

He hoped so. Then maybe it would crash.

The SEALs resumed their trek. The rain didn't let up. Kon was soaked to the bone. He felt the weight of his gear more and more as he walked. The muscles in his legs grew leaden. He had no doubt the other SEALs felt as he did.

Still they kept going. Kon did not order any breaks. They couldn't afford to.

An eternity later, Young Ho's voice came through Kon's radio. "Commander. We've spotted two Zil trucks parked just inside the woods. They are at the same coordinates as our rendezvous point. There is one guard with an AK-74 rifle in front of the lead truck. He matches the photo of the contact named Hyo."

"Roger. Hold your position. I shall make contact with him. In-Su, I leave you in charge. If you hear any gunfire, go in, eliminate everyone in the trucks, and continue on with the mission.

"Yes, Sir."

Kon set out toward the trucks, his boots squishing in the mud. He passed Young Ho and Kyu Bok. Both concealed themselves in the bushes, covering the rendezvous point with their compact Daewoo K1 carbines. The man by the trucks stiffened as Kon approached. He didn't raise his AK-74, but looked ready to if the situation warranted.

"Lee Man-Soo is the greatest player in the history of Korea Professional Baseball," Kon stated.

The man with the AK-74 took a step forward. "If he was so great, how come the Samsung Lions only won one championship during his entire career with them?"

Kon let out a short sigh of relief. The man had given the correct response. He walked up to him. "Commander Kon."

"I am Hyo."

Kon doubted that was the man's real name as he shook his hand. He then radioed the rest of his SEALs to join him.

"I thought there would be more of you." Hyo's brow furrowed as he took in Kon's unit.

"There were. Our ship was torpedoed by a North Korean submarine. We managed to get off. The rest of my team . . . was not so fortunate." Kon's teeth clenched as he recalled the shattered Osprey containing Chief Park and the others plunging into the sea.

"I am sorry."

"Thank you." Kon nodded. "You have the information we need?"

"Yes." Hyo looked over his shoulder and hollered, "Lee! Shin! Min Ho!"

A short, slender woman emerged from the cab of the second truck. Her damp clothes clung to a very shapely figure. Three more people jumped out the back of the truck. Two of them, one lanky, the other muscular, gripped a slight, trembling young man by the arms. They half-walked, half dragged him over to Hyo and shoved him to the ground.

"Please don't hurt me," the young man's voice quivered. "Please. I told you I'd do whatever you want."

Kon approached the scared young man and studied him. He wore a pair of pajamas, soaked by the rain. A couple bruises stood out on his child-like face. He couldn't have been more than eighteen.

"Who is this?"

"Private Sang Min of the Korean People's Army. He is with one of the supply units that service your target. Lee was able to use her . . . charms to put him at ease before we captured him."

Sang Min looked over at Lee, whimpering, a hurt expression on his face.

Lee's face was as unreadable as stone.

"We 'persuaded' him to give us everything he knew about the complex." Hyo reached into his tunic and produced a piece of paper covered in clear plastic. "Thanks to his information, we came up with this diagram."

Kon checked it over with his infrared flashlight, concentrating mainly on the lower levels of the complex. A few areas were left blank. No doubt restricted areas. One of them had to be the place where Barznav controlled Thulgira.

_Speaking of which . . ._

He pulled out the photo of Barznav and held it in front of Sang Min. "Do you recognize this man?"

"Yes, Yes. He is the scientist."

"Does he stay on the base?"

"I don't know. I heard there are places in the sub-levels where the important people stay. They have big beds and sofas and microwave ovens there."

Kon nodded. He thought it unlikely Barznav would live off-base. With a war on, the so-called Great Leader would want him as close to the devices that controlled Thulgira as possible.

"How many soldiers guard the base?"

"A-A hundred or more. Maybe a hundred-forty or a hundred-fifty now, with the extra anti-aircraft guns and missiles there."

"Regular army or Special Purpose Forces?"

"Regular soldiers."

"What about other personnel? Technical specialists? Support staff?"

"Yes. Yes, they are there. Other scientists. Cooks. Clerks."

"How many people in total at the base?"

"Two-Two hundred. Two hundred twenty, maybe."

Kon folded his arms across his chest, processing the information from the trembling Sang Min. He figured they were facing at least a company of regular soldiers. Add to it maybe another three or four dozen manning the anti-aircraft systems.

"Are the support personnel armed?"

"I think I saw a couple of them carrying pistols."

Kon responded with a barely perceptible nod. So even the support troops are armed. But how many of them were proficient with pistols or rifles? They would also be slower to react than troops trained specifically for combat.

"What about the scientists? Are any of them armed?"

"Not the ones I saw."

That was good. They'd likely surrender the moment they saw a carbine aimed their way. One or two might try to be a hero. A three-round burst to the chest should discourage any others from doing the same.

Twenty SEALs versus upwards of 220 people. They would have to strike fast with maximum violence and kill as many soldiers as possible to have any chance of success.

He called over all his SEALs. They stood in a circle as he went over the plan for their assault.

"We would like to help if possible," Hyo said.

"You have already helped us with this information," said Kon.

"No, I mean we wish to join you in your attack on the complex. We all have the necessary training and experience for this. And with your team at half-strength, you will need all the extra bodies you can get."

"But what of your cover here in the North? It will be compromised if you join us."

"We know why that complex is so important. If it is not destroyed, the country we serve will no longer exist."

Kon's face scrunched in thought. He didn't like the idea of adding four strangers to a group who had spent months, in some cases years, working and training together. But he couldn't argue with Hyo's logic. His unit was undermanned for this mission. The more guns at his disposal, the better.

"Very well. I accept your offer."

Hyo, Lee and Shin, the lanky spy, joined the SEALs, while Min Ho, the muscular spy, watched the young North Korean private. After working out their plan, they gave Sang Min a fresh uniform and boarded the trucks.

"Please let me go," Sang Min begged Kon. "I helped you. I did what you wanted. Please let me go."

"We can't. We need you to drive the truck to the complex. The guards will recognize you."

"I'll do it. I'll do it. Then will you let me go?"

Kon paused. "Yes."

Sang Min smiled. He scrambled into the driver's seat of the first truck, and waited for Kon to climb in before starting the engine.

"Don't try anything." Kon held up his SiG-Sauer P226 pistol, a suppressor attached to the barrel.

"I won't. I swear I won't."

They drove onto the highway, the wipers fighting a losing battle against the rain pounding the windshield. No other traffic passed them. Hyo told them very few traveled on this road, especially at night.

"I don't like him, you know?" Sang Min blurted.

"Who?"

"Our Great Leader. I don't like him. Really, I don't. He is evil. He sent my aunt and uncle to a camp. I don't know if they're alive or dead. My mother and father, and my little sister, they starve. I starve! I deliver so much food to this place, but me and my friends, all we get are a few handfuls of rice or some watery broth. You should go to Pyongyang and kill him."

"Mm-hmm." Kon wondered if the young soldier said all that out of fear, or because he truly believed it. Maybe a combination of both.

Not that it mattered to him.

Sang Min said nothing else until the complex came into sight. Kon sat up straighter, peering through the heavy rain. A pair of guards stepped out of the little shack near the front gate. On either side of the entrance was a sandbagged machine gun nest.

His heartbeat picked up. Kon took a few slow breaths, trying to settle down.

"Remember," he said in a low, menacing tone to Sang Min. "Do nothing to arouse their suspicion."

"Uh-huh." The private nodded emphatically.

One of the guards held up a hand. Sang Min slowed to a stop a couple feet from the gate. Kon watched the guard walk toward the driver's side door, while the other stood near the shack.

"What is it, Private?"

"I have a delivery." Sang Min picked up a clipboard and handed it to the guard. Kon had no idea what was written on it. Hyo had given it to Sang Min before they headed here.

The guard read over the papers, rain dripping off his helmet. Nothing in his body language indicated he was suspicious.

"Everything seems in order, except you are not scheduled to make a delivery at this time. I will have to alert the duty officer."

The guard turned.

Kon brought up his SiG-Sauer. Two muffled claps echoed through the cab. The .357 rounds tore through the base of the guard's neck, severing his spinal cord. He toppled forward, dead before he hit the ground.

The second guard just stared at his fallen comrade, the shock evident on his face.

Kon's first shot shattered the windshield. The next two caught the guard in the chest.

"GO! GO! GO!"

He heard the SEALs scrambling out the back. The North Koreans in the machine gun nests hollered and readied their weapons. Kon glanced at the rearview mirrors. Three spherical objects flew into the machine gun next on the right. He knew the scene would be repeated on his left side.

Several sharp bangs rattled the air. Flashes of orange and red lit up the machine gun nests.

"Drive!" he shouted at Sang Min.

The private nodded and stomped on the gas. The truck rolled through the gate, followed by the second one. SEALs jogged alongside both vehicles. Several raised their carbines. A steady string of crackles filled the air. A squad of North Korean soldiers collapsed. Another soldier near an SA-6 SAM launcher fell against the flat chassis and slid to the ground. The distinct _bang _of a LAW anti-tank rocket pierced the sound of gunfire. Seconds later a ZSU-23 anti-aircraft vehicle erupted in flames.

"Turn left!" Kon ordered Sang Min.

The private twisted the wheel left. Kon watched the second truck speed toward the hangar-like building. A pair of North Korean soldiers ran out of the entrance, then stumbled and fell, no doubt shot down by one of the SEALs. The truck stopped in front of the entrance. Ten SEALs jumped out the back and stormed into the building, followed by the two in the cab.

"Stop!"

Sang Min stomped on the brake.

Kon noticed an old truck carrying two SA-3 Goa missiles twenty-five feet away. A soldier stood by the bed, clutching a Type 56 rifle, head whipping to and fro.

Kon holstered his pistol, threw open the door and brought up his K1 carbine. The North Korean soldier spotted him just as Kon squeezed the trigger. Three rounds nailed the soldier in the chest. He fell on his side.

The passenger side door of the Goa launcher opened. Kon caught sight of a soldier running away, but didn't have a good shot at him.

He turned back to Sang Min. "Leave. Now."

The private nodded, relief washing over his face. He turned his back to Kon and opened the door.

Kon brought up his K1 and fired. Sang Min's head split in half, blood spraying in all directions. The young North Korean tumbled out of the cab and fell to the ground.

A pang of guilt went through Kon. Any other time, he might have considered letting Sang Min go. But he couldn't take a chance on the young private running into his superiors and providing them details on his unit, or returning with a gun to fight them.

He pushed Sang Min's death out of his head and jumped from the truck. He dashed across the complex, catching sight of Jung-Su, their sniper, climbing the ladder to the top of the water tower. One of the SEALs fired another LAW. An S-60 anti-aircraft gun turned into a fireball. The big spy, Min Ho, fired an RPG-7 at one of the troop barracks. The explosion tore through the thin metal wall of the Quonset hut-style building. Two SEALs, Dong-Sun and Nam-Kyu, rushed up to the barracks and used the grenade launchers attached under the barrels of their K1s to pump fragmentation and high-explosive rounds through the windows. A few North Koreans stumbled out of the doors, many in their underwear and sporting bloody wounds. Chung-Hee, the unit's machine gunner, cut them down with his K3.

"It appears we've killed all the sentries," Hyo reported as Kon approached him. "Many of the SAM operators ran away when the shooting started."

Kon nodded, then turned to the barracks. Smoke and flames gushed from the windows. Two North Koreans emerged from one of the barracks, hands over their mouths, coughing. Chung-Hee opened up with his K3. Both of them spun and dropped to the ground.

"Jung-Su," he radioed the sniper. "Do you see any more enemy soldiers?"

"Just a few scaling the fence to get away. No sign of any sentries. You are clear to the target."

"Roger." Kon looked to the others. "Move!"

They hurried across the wet concrete, splashing through puddles. Kon swept his rifle left and right, alert for any threats. He almost couldn't believe that the gunfire had completely stopped. How long would it last?

His gaze fell on the huge antennae fifty meters away. His chest tightened. That was it. That was what sent out signals that ordered Thulgira to destroy his country.

Rage bubbled up inside him. How many friends and family had died because of that damn monster? How long would it take The Republic to recover? Could it ever fully recover? A vision of him putting a three-round burst into that SOB Barznav's head played in his mind. Why not? He could always tell his superiors the man pulled a gun on his and his SEALs. Barznav surely deserved die more than poor Private Sang Min.

Kon suppressed those thoughts. Suppressed his anger. He couldn't afford them on a mission this –

"ZSU!" Jung-Su voice exploded in his earpiece. "Coming up on your left! Dammit, it was in a blind spot!"

Kon swung his head left. A squat tracked vehicle with a flat turret and four slender cannons rolled out from behind the corner of a building.

"DOWN! EVERYBODY DOWN!"

Kon dropped to his stomach. So did the other SEALs and Hyo's spies.

Except Min Ho. He got on one knee and shouldered his RPG-7.

A rapid-fire popping came from the ZSU-23's cannons. Tracers slashed through the rain. Kon tensed as cracks and zips filled the air above him.

Min Ho's head and left shoulder vanished in a geyser of blood. The ravaged body toppled onto its back. The RPG clattered on the damp concrete.

The ZSU-23 rolled forward.

"Dong-Sun! Nam-Kyu!" Kon shouted into his radio. "Put smoke grenades on the ZSU approaching our position!"

"Yes, Sir," they both replied.

He glanced to his right and spotted the two grenadiers dashing toward them. He gritted his teeth, hoping the rain and the dark obscured the vision of the ZSU-23 crew.

Though if they were using night vision devices . . .

Dong-Sun and Nam-Kyu both dropped to one knee. Soft pops came from their grenade launchers. Two orange flashes erupted on the quad-mounted 23mm cannons. A cloud of thick smoke blotted out the turret. The ZSU-23 rolled to a stop.

Kon scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Min Ho's corpse. He grabbed the fallen RPG-7 and hefted it on his shoulder.

The loud _BANG _drilled into his skull. An orange flare burned a few feet in front of him as the projectile's internal rocket ignited. It shot through the darkness. A gusher of flames tore through the smoke-shrouded turret. Bright orange sparks exploded from the ZSU-23 as its ammunition cooked off.

Kon dropped the RPG-7 and ordered everyone forward. Once they reached the antenna, he and several other SEALs pulled out blocks of C4 and attached them to the supports. After sticking in the blasting caps, the SEALs and spies retreated behind a sheet metal building 120 meters away.

Kon pulled out the detonator and flipped a switch. "Detonator armed." He took a quick breath. "Fire in the hole!"

His thumb mashed the red button.

Loud, sharp crashes shook the air. Red and orange fireballs consumed the base of the antenna. A loud, grinding sound covered the entire complex. The antenna fell forward, and kept falling until it slammed into the ground. Tremors raced under Kon's feet.

Several of the SEALs let out a cheer. Kon wanted to as well, but decided it would not be the appropriate thing for a senior officer to do.

Besides, only one part of the mission was completed.

His thoughts turned further south, to Lieutenant Commander Jim Rice.

_It is up to you now, my friend._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	11. Chapter 11

Barznav gawked at the screen in front of him. A flat line represented the signal that controlled Thulgira.

_This can't be. _

He pressed buttons and flicked switches over and over again.

_Come on. Work, dammit. Work!_

The line remained flat.

_I . . . I can't control Thulgira._

He barely heard General Sang shout out orders. He barely heard the distant pops and thuds filtering through the steel door. Barznav just stared at the screen dumbfounded. His hands trembled. He had to correct this. His greatest achievement could not end like this.

He furiously stabbed at the buttons on his console.

"Work . . . work . . . work, damn y-"

A horrendous crash rocked the control bunker. Barznav pressed his hands over his ears and tumbled off the chair. Several others screamed in pain and fear.

Short, sharp crackles split the air. He rolled onto his back. The guards twisted around and fell, patches of blood on their tunics and faces. A group of heavily armed, black-clad men rushed through the smoking remains of the door and into the bunker. General Sang fumbled for his pistol. One of the intruders raised a rifle and fired. Sang stumbled into a nearby console and collapsed to the floor. Gobs of blood stained his chest.

"ON THE FLOOR! EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR! MOVE AND YOU DIE!"

Barznav's entire body quaked. Fear squeezed his chest tight. His skin grew cold.

_What's happening? I don't want to die._

One of the intruders stalked toward Barznav. His shaking grew worse. The man stared at him, tilted his head, then glanced at something on the bottom of his right forearm. Was that a photograph?

"You are Doctor Uldis Barznav?"

"Y-Y-Yes. Who-Who are you?"

The man scowled at him, then shouted, "I have him! Target secure!" He then said in a more normal tone, "Orca Five. Thinking Cap in good hands. Repeat, Thinking Cap in good hands."

Barznav held his breath as the intruder reached down for him. "Get up."

The man yanked him to his feet with one hand and threw him against the console.

"Please don't kill me."

The intruder's face hardened. Barznav took a shaky breath as the rifle barrel hovered inches from his face.

"I should. After all the death and destruction you caused, I would be doing everyone in my country a favor by putting a bullet through your miserable skull."

"I-I-I . . . I've done nothing."

"That is a lie! We know about your background. We know you conducted cutting edge animal experiments for the KGB during the Cold War. It had to be you controlling Thulgira." A wicked smile traced over his lips. "Thankfully, we have made sure you can never do that again."

Barznav's eyes widened. "It was you. You cut off my signal."

The intruder nodded. "My friends outside brought your control tower down a few minutes ago. Who knows? Without you to guide it, Thulgira might actually destroy your forces instead of ours."

Barznav's breathing increased. His shoulders rose and fell. Anger burned through his fear.

_They destroyed the tower. My achievements. My dreams. They destroyed them._

_I could have ruled the world, but they . . . they . . ._

"You fool! You shit-sucking son-of-a-whore! Do you realize what you've done!"

"I have hopefully saved my country from destruction."

"To hell with your country!" Barznav raged. "I spit on your miserable country! South Korea lies in rubble because of me!" He pounded his chest with a fist. "I did that! I controlled the greatest destructive force mankind has ever known."

He turned and pointed across the bunker to a clear plastic container with several wires. Inside it was a red glowing object. "That! That little stone made me the most powerful man in the world! Nobody else could unlock its secret. Fifteen years the imbeciles in this country tried after they found Thulgira in a cavern near here. Then they brought me in, and paid me more money than you will ever see in your miserable life! I learned Thulgira was created by an ancient civilization to wage war on another. I learned how to bypass the psychic link of the stone and generate the proper harmonics through artificial means. Me! Uldis Barznav! Who are you to interfere with my genius! Who are you to -"

The intruder whirled his gun around. The butt slammed into Barznav's gut. Pain exploded through his body. All the air shot from his lungs. He wheezed and sank to his knees, hands over his ample stomach.

"I am just a man defending his country from scum like you."

"In-Su." Another intruder came up to the one that struck Barznav. "The bunker his secure. Six enemy dead, four wounded and twenty-six prisoners total."

"Good. Put them with the other prisoners in the second floor mess hall."

"Right away."

Barznav opened his mouth, expecting to throw up. Instead he had the dry heaves. The pain still crushed his stomach.

"Orca Five," In-Su said, probably into a radio. "We have positive ID on Thinking Cap's steering wheel. He used the same thing your American friend has on his pendant . . . Yes, I am sure . . . Understood. We'll begin placing our charges. Oh, they also have a monitor in here that appears to have a feed from the Big Ugly Bastard."

Barznav grimaced from both pain and anger. Is that what they called Thulgira? Big Ugly Bastard?

_You should be terrified of him, not make jokes about him._

"Right now he seems to be stomping around just outside some city," In-Su reported. "Yes, Sir. Hopefully our Big Friend can deal with him this time."

_Big friend?_ Barznav's shoulders and chest tensed. Did he mean Gamera?

All his muscles froze when the realization hit him. _"He used the same thing your American friend has on his pendant." _Did that mean they had someone controlling Gamera? Could Thulgira win without being under his control?

Barznav looked up at In-Su, gritting his teeth. "You ruined everything!"

"Good." In-Su rammed a boot into his side.

**XXXXX**

Electricity crackled through Rice as he watched Thulgira roar and stomp around the outskirts of Changwon.

"Well, nice to see something actually went our way in this war," said Soto.

Thulgira's tail whipped around. Several buildings collapsed and kicked up huge clouds of dust.

"It ain't over yet." Rice clutched the pendant and closed his eyes. _We're ready. Take him out._

_I am on my way, _Gamera replied.

Again, his vision wavered back and forth from the panoramic view of Changwon to water all around him. Suddenly he heard and felt a tremendous splash. Half his vision became a whirlwind of fire.

Gamera was coming. At the speed he flew, it should only take a few minutes before he reached –

"Commander, we have company." Mongkut reported.

"Who?"

"A single KM450."

Rice chewed on his lip. The KM450 was the standard light utility truck of the ROK army. What would one be doing up here? CFC had restricted all military activity on Mount Bulmo, save for him and his SEALs.

He thought back to the supposed South Korean soldiers on the bridge at the Geum River.

_Aw crap, not again._

Did the North Koreans know about them? Did they know he controlled Gamera? How could that be possible? Or maybe they were here for a different purpose. This part of Mount Bulmo provided a commanding view of Changwon. It would be a good place for an observation post for an invading army.

How and why didn't matter. All that mattered was another group of Special Purpose Forces in disguise were headed here. Rice couldn't afford to have them tramping around.

"Myung-Dae." He turned to their Korean liaison. "Looks like we got some more infiltrators."

"I agree."

"Take Warthan and Engle with you and set up an ambush. Keep those bastards away from Soto and me. It's your show, Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir." Myung-Dae nodded, then stared at Warthan and Engle.

Rice also stared at the Senior Chief and the unit's medic. The resolve on both their faces was clear. They accepted Myung-Dae as their leader, no questions asked. It didn't surprise him too much. Myung-Dae had been with them night and day for well over a week. He'd proven himself in combat. He was no longer a stranger. He'd become one of them.

"Good luck, guys." Rice nodded to them.

"Same to you, Sir." Warthan slapped him on the shoulder before he, Engle and Myung-Dae slithered away.

"Hey, Sir." Soto aimed his gaze to the night sky. "I think the party's about to start."

Rice didn't need to look up. He saw/felt Gamera diving toward Changwon, spinning in a fiery blur. Thulgira continued to trample entire blocks of the city. He looked up seconds before Gamera crashed into him. Thulgira's arms flew back. He crashed onto an already smashed neighborhood. Enormous dust clouds surrounded him.

Gamera leveled off, arms, legs and head emerging from his shell. He stood near Thulgira and unleashed an earth-shattering roar.

"Get him!" Rice said through clenched teeth.

Gamera charged forward. Thulgira started to get to his feet when the giant turtle ran into him. Thulgira rolled over, crushing buildings and trees.

Gamera roared again. He grabbed Thulgira's frill. Rice felt all his muscles strain as Gamera lifted Thulgira, them slammed him into the ground. Even from this distance he felt the tremors.

Another cloud of dust obscured his view. He closed his eyes, looking through Gamera's eyes. The turtle rained blow after blow on Thulgira's head. The monster roared and swung its head back and forth. One of the horns cut across Gamera's leg. He roared.

Rice gritted his teeth, feeling a bolt of fire sear his right leg.

Thulgira got up and swung a massive arm. It struck Gamera under the chin, snapping his head back.

And Rice's as well.

"You okay, Sir?" asked Soto.

"Fine," he answered in a strained voice, his skull vibrating.

Thulgira lashed out with his arm again. His claws raked Gamera's torso. Fiery needles dragged down Rice's chest.

_No way, dammit. You are not beating me again._

_You're not beating us again._

Thulgira's arm reared back, ready for another blow.

_Wait for it._

The monster roared and swung its arm down.

_NOW!_

Gamera opened his mouth. He caught Thulgira's arm in his jaws and bit down. Thulgira let out a sustained, painful roar.

Again all of Rice's muscles tensed. Thulgira pulled and shook his right arm. He punched and clawed Gamera's head with his free arm.

_Do not let go. Do not . . . let . . . go._

Gunfire erupted far behind him. Myung-Dae and his SEALs springing their ambush. He hoped it was that, and not the North Koreans gunning them down.

_I can't think about that now._

Rice felt his molars about to crack he bit down so hard. But he had to reach down, summon every ounce of strength so . . . he . . . could . . .

Gamera twisted his head to the left.

_SNAP!_

Rice flinched when the sickening sound reached his ears. Even Soto grimaced.

Thulgira stumbled backwards, his roars more high-pitched, more tortured.

_Now let's finish him off._

Gamera opened his mouth wide. A red glow came from inside. Rice felt his own throat grow blazing hot.

A fireball shot from Gamera's mouth. It exploded against Thulgira's hide. The monster thrashed about, flames and smoke covering him.

Yet it did not go down.

"Oh for piss sake," Soto blurted. "What does it take to kill this thing?"

Rice didn't answer. He still couldn't get over the shock. He sensed through Gamera that the fireballs easily destroyed the Gyaos. Obviously, whoever created Thulgira made him a lot tougher than those monster birds.

That was demonstrated by the fact Thulgira, still smoldering, lowered its head and charged Gamera.

_I hate those damn horns._

That's when the idea struck him.

He had Gamera step to the side. Thulgira tried to stop when he realized he was going to miss.

Gamera reached out and grabbed both of the large horns. He turned Thulgira toward him and pushed back the monster's head. It sent a laser blast from its horns. The beam shot harmlessly into the sky.

Rice grunted. Damn, it felt like his hands had burst into flames.

More gunfire and a couple of explosions echoed behind him. Distant voices filtered through his radio.

"They're trying to outflank us!"

"Someone take out that machine gun!"

"Engle's hit! Engle's hit!"

Rice's chest tightened. Engle! Oh God, how bad was he hit?

Thulgira fired another laser blast. Rice's hands felt like he laid them on an oven.

_Don't let go. Fight the pain. Fight the pain._

He flexed his muscles.

Gamera flexed his muscles.

They pulled . . . pulled . . . pulled . . .

A crunch and a snap carried across the entire city. Gamera flung his arms out to his sides. He roared and held up his hands, each one holding the horns he'd torn off Thulgira's head.

Thulgira cried out and thrashed around. He pawed at his face, as though desperately searching for the horns that were no longer there.

_I got an idea._

He could see Gamera nod in the distance. The turtle dropped the horn in his left arm and advanced on Thulgira. The monster continued to wail and stamp its feet.

Gamera reached out and grabbed Thulgira by the horn on its snout. It struggled to break the hold.

Gamera would not let go.

With a mighty roar, Gamera reared back his right hand, then swung it forward. The horn pierced Thulgira's left eye.

Rice clenched his teeth and scalding fists. He willed Gamera to push the horn deeper into Thulgira, through its brain, and out the other side of its head.

Gamera stepped back. Rice stared at Thulgira through the giant turtle's eyes. The monster stood statue still. Not so much as a hiss came from its mouth.

Like a freshly cut tree, it fell, crashing onto its back. It lay still, Gamera/Rice watched it, just in case it showed any sign of stirring.

Thulgira did not move at all.

_It's dead._ Rice gaped at the scene. Had they really killed Thulgira?

"Yeah!" Soto cheered and pumped a fist, abandoning all discipline. "You did it, Sir! You did it!" He slapped Rice on the back. "That big som'bitch is dead!"

Rice responded with a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah. Oh my God, yeah."

Another sound spread throughout the city. Some sort of rumble? No, that wasn't right. It sounded like . . .

Cheering?

It was. The residents who moments before had been fleeing for their lives now celebrated the death of the monster that had destroyed so much of their country.

"We did it!" Rice hollered and threw an arm around Soto's shoulders. "We did it, man!"

"Yeah! Friggin A!"

Gamera threw back his head and let out a triumphant roar.

Rice drew a quick breath. He brought up his hands to his face. They didn't burn any more. His chest and leg also felt fine.

He looked up and saw Gamera turning in his direction. He gave the big turtle a thumbs up.

_We did it, buddy._

_Yes, we did it._

The cheering from Changwon grew louder.

Suddenly another sound overwhelmed it.

Jet engines.

Rice looked up. Squadrons of MiGs roared overhead. He then saw them through Gamera's eyes.

Something moved in his peripheral vision. Gamera/Rice turned. Rows of armored vehicles rolled toward Changwon. Tanks and armored vehicles and trucks and self-propelled artillery. All old and Soviet-made.

All North Korean.

All on their own with their ultimate weapon lying on the ground with a horn shoved through its head.

Gamera turned to the approaching North Korean armored division and roared.

A smile grew on Rice's face. "Sic 'em, boy."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	12. Chapter 12

The Great Leader sat behind his desk, silently staring at the wall. He still had trouble accepting the news from his National Defense Commission. He had screamed at the generals and ministers to confirm it.

They had.

He still didn't want to believe it.

Thulgira was dead, killed by the damn giant turtle. Even worse, the 4th Army Corps, which had been poised to take control of Changwon, had been completely destroyed by Gamera.

_Barznav said Thulgira was invincible. He lied to me._

_He lied to me!_

The Great Leader had attempted to contact General Sang and order him to arrest and execute the incompetent Latvian. But all communications with the complex at Kaesong had been cut off.

One of the phones on his desk rang. He let it ring four times before picking it up. "Yes?" He tried unsuccessfully to sound confident.

"Great Leader." It was General Ri, Chief of the Korean People's Army General Staff. "We have just received word that Gamera has commenced an attack on the Eighth Army Corps near Kwangju. We have dispatched fighter-bombers to support them, but . . . but Gamera destroyed all our aircraft over Changwon. I'm not . . . not sure . . ."

The Great Leader hung up the phone and returned to staring at the wall. Another army corps was going to be destroyed by Gamera. Then more than likely another, and another, until he had no army left. He had seen Thulgira decimate all the South Korean and American military forces in its path. If Gamera was powerful enough to kill Thulgira, what chance did the People's Army have?

_The war is lost._

Tremors gripped his body. If the imperialists had control of Gamera, as some on the National Defense Commission feared, they would surely use the beast to exact revenge for all the destruction caused by Thulgira. They would not stop until every square inch of the People's Republic was reduced to ash.

And he had no way to prevent it.

_Or do I?_

Despite Thulgira's rampage, the weaklings in the South refused to allow the Americans to use their most powerful weapons for fear they would win the war, but irradiate a sizeable portion of the South in the process.

Such concerns did not matter at all to him.

The Great Leader picked up another phone, this one a direct line to General Choe, the commander of the Missile Guidance Bureau. He ordered him to use his special weapons on Gamera.

"Of course, Great Leader, but . . . but . . ."

"But what?"

"Well, it is just the weapons are strategic in nature, and Gamera is a mobile target. Even if we do have his location, by the time we program the coordinates into the guidance system and launch the missile, he will likely have moved on somewhere else. We . . . we will be wasting a missile, and American cruise missiles and high-altitude bomber attacks have reduced our inventory to just six missiles."

The Great Leader's head shook with rage. He opened his mouth, ready to scream at Choe, then stopped himself. What good would it do to fire one of his precious special weapons at the damn turtle if it wouldn't be around when it hit?

Another storm of fury swept through him. All those years, all the money and resources he put into this program to make the People's Republic a nation to be reckoned with, and it was all useless!

_No. I can still use them._

A smile grew on his face. The imperialists may win this war, but he could make certain their victory would be a pyrrhic one.

"General Choe. How many missiles did you say are left in our arsenal?"

"Six, Great Leader."

"Launch them."

**XXXXX**

Rice "watched" Gamera crush a pair of North Korean T-55 tanks beneath his feet when Soto informed him Commander Kon was on the radio.

"Good job up there, buddy. We've got good news to report from Changwon. Thulgira's dead."

"We know," Kon replied. "We saw it on one of the monitors here. It appears the North Koreans implanted cameras in Thulgira's eyes to keep track of it. We also found the source of Doctor Barznav's control over the monster. It was a stone, similar to the one you have."

Rice's jaw slowly fell open in astonishment. "You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"So was he actually linked to Thulgira?"

"No. It appears he manipulated the stone's . . . energy, I guess, through artificial means. We persuaded the Doctor to help us examine the stone. Whatever energy it possessed, it seems to have faded completely after Thulgira's death."

"Well that's good to hear." At least no one else could use it to control any other giant monsters lurking elsewhere in the world.

"I agree," Kon responded. "You did a good job, Commander, both you and Gamera."

"Thanks." Rice felt a couple tiny pricks on his chest. North Korean artillery had scored a few hits on Gamera. A couple fireballs silenced those big guns permanently.

"What is Gamera doing now?" Kon asked.

"Barbecuing an entire corps of North Korean soldiers."

"Good. Keep it up."

"I intend to." Rice bit his lip for a moment. "How did your guys come through up there?"

Kon sighed briefly. "Two dead. One of my SEALs, and one of the contacts who accompanied us. I also have three wounded, but none seriously. You?"  
>Rice's stomach turned into a lead ball. He forced down the lump forming in his throat. "One KIA." He still found it hard to believe Stuart Engle was dead. How many hairy situations had they been in over the past year? Engle had gotten out of them with at worst a few nasty cuts. But here on a Korean mountaintop, two rounds in the chest and . . .<p>

He closed his eyes, trying to regroup. _You'll have time to mourn later._

"How do you guys plan on getting out of there?" Rice had already been informed of _Dodko's _loss.

"We've radioed the _George Washington. _She's sending some of her helicopters to extract us. It will take them a few hours to reach us, so we'll . . . one moment, Commander."

Rice heard something shuffle over the earpiece. Maybe Kon put the receiver against his chest. Still he heard what sounded like low voices, though he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Commander, we have a problem. Our sniper just spotted an armored force heading our way."

"How big?"

"Four APCs. A reconnaissance unit, most likely."

"Which means there's gotta be a bigger force just behind them," Rice said. "You guys better lay low until those helos get there."

"That might be difficult. We caused much damage at the base. When the recon unit sees it, they'll call in the main force. Even if we head into the forest, they'll no doubt search it, and I do not like our chances of staying out of sight until the helicopters arrive."

Rice's jaw tightened. Even if the choppers got there, the North Koreans would probably blast them out of the sky, and Kon's men would be in deeper crap than they were already.

There had to be a faster way to . . .

He looked through Gamera's eyes again, watching hundreds of North Korean soldiers fleeing before him.

"Kon, don't worry. We've got a faster way to get you and your guys out of there."

"How?"

"My big buddy."

Kon paused. "Are you sure about that?"

"If you've got a better suggestion, I'm all ears."

"I don't. But the sooner we leave this place, the better. I'll prepare my men."

"Good." Rice nodded. "We should be there in a half-hour, maybe less. Just hold on till then."

"We will, Commander. Thank you."

"No problem. I'll see you soon. Out."

He handed the receiver back to Soto and linked in with Gamera.

_I need you back here. We need to rescue some friends of mine._

_Your human enemies here have been defeated, _Gamera replied. _I will come to you._

Rice looked around at his SEALs. "All right, guys. When Gamera gets here, we're gonna take a little trip up to Kaesong and get Kon's men out of there."

"You mean we're actually gonna fly on Gamera?" Candaele's eyes widened.

"That's the plan."

"I assume Gamera will be carrying us as he flies," said Myung-Dae. "Will that be safe?"

The corners of Rice's mouth twisted. _Damn. _He hadn't thought of that. Gamera could fly in excess of Mach One, far in excess of it. Even at a few hundred miles per hour, could they really hold on to the turtle without getting blown off?

_Maybe he can cover us with his hands._

Which, of course, held the risk of accidentally getting crushed.

No, what they needed was some kind of container that Gamera could easily carry and that could protect them from the buffeting winds.

A thought struck Rice. He focused on the alluvial plain beyond Changwon, where the US and ROK forces were located.

_Would something like that work?_

It would have to. Right now he didn't have any other choice.

"Okay." He turned back to the SEALs. "This is what we're gonna -"

"Sir!" Soto blurted. "Urgent message from CFC. General Taylor wants to talk to you now."

Rice furrowed his brow. Why would General Taylor want to talk to him? To congratulate him for killing Thulgira? No, saying, "Good job, son," did not sound like something a general would consider urgent.

He took the receiver from Soto. "This is Venom Six. Go."

"Commander Rice, it's General Taylor. We just got an alert from NORAD. The North Koreans just launched six ballistic missiles."

"What?" Rice gaped.

"You heard me. Tell your comm specialist we're sending him a link from NORAD showing the missile tracks."

"Yes, Sir." He told this to Soto. Even the black camo paint couldn't completely hide the shock on his face.

"Oh my God," Candaele said in a hushed voice as a digital image of Korea and Japan appeared on Soto's screen.

"Crazy sons'a bitches." Warthan shook his head.

Myung-Dae stood statue still, his eyes locked on the screen.

Rice held his breath as he stared at the missile tracks. The readouts below them gave their altitude, estimated speed, and for three tracks, their projected targets.

One was for Changwon.

The other two were for Pusan.

"Commander," Taylor's voice burst from the earpiece. "We need you to have Gamera destroy those missiles. We have to assume they're carrying nukes, or maybe chemical or bio weapons. If even one of them hits their target, we could be looking at hundreds of thousands, maybe even a million casualties."

Rice gripped the phone so hard it shook. He thought of Kon, waiting to be whisked away from Kaesong with the rest of his men. If he didn't get to them soon, they could be facing an entire division of North Korean troops. What chance would they have then?

_What chance do the people of Changwon and Pusan have if Gamera doesn't shoot down those missiles?_

Over a million people lived in Changwon. Pusan had over three-and-a-half million. Throw in the refugees that fled to both cities and those figures increased by two or three times.

He cursed himself for his decision. He'd already lost one friend today. Now he'd likely lose another.

_But what choice do I have?_

"Commander!" Taylor practically shouted.

"Gamera's on the way, Sir. We'll knock out those missiles."

"Roger that, Commander. Get to it."

"Yes, Sir. Venom Six, out."

Rice lowered the receiver and closed his eyes. _Change of plans, buddy. We've got some missiles to shoot down._

_Guide me to them, and I will destroy them._

He looked at the feed from NORAD. Three of the missiles had reached their apogees and arced over, racing toward Changwon and Pusan. The other three missiles headed out over the Sea of Japan. Could Japan be their target?

_Keep going straight. Climb._

He felt Gamera rise, flying faster, his eyes scanning the night sky for the telltale glow of exhaust from the missiles.

"Soto. Get Kon back on the line."

Rice watched Gamera's progress as he took the receiver from Soto.

"What is it, Commander?" Kon asked.

"Kon." His jaw tightened for a moment. "I'm sorry. We won't be able to come and get you." He quickly told him about the ballistic missiles headed toward Changwon and Pusan.

"Forget about us," Kon told him. "Destroying those missiles is the only thing that matters right now."

"Understood. Hold out best you can. As soon as we're done here, we'll head your way."

"We'll be fine. Concentrate on those missiles."

"Roger that. Out." Rice bit his lip. He seriously doubted Kon and his men would be fine. But the Korean SEAL was right. The missiles took priority over everything else.

_I see them, _he heard Gamera's thoughts.

Rice felt his consciousness jump fully into the giant turtle. Three red glows soared through the sky, two of them further away than the third. The trailing missile had to be for Changwon.

_Faster. Faster._

He felt the screaming wind smash into his face. He/they closed with the missiles. Not quickly enough. Damn adrenaline was slowing down the world around him.

Rice had Gamera bank to the right and descend, trying to keep track of the missile. Aiming proved difficult, with one high-speed object trying to shoot down another without any sort of electronic aid. It definitely was not like trying to shoot a moving target from five hundred yards away. The missile moved a hell of a lot faster than a person or a vehicle.

_Forget precision. _He'd have to do it the old-fashioned way, like the submariners back in World War II. Fire a spread and hope at least one shot hit the target.

Though instead of torpedoes, he had fireballs at his disposal.

The missile plunged toward the ground. Out the corner of his eye, Rice/Gamera made out the shadowy cityscape of Changwon. They didn't have much time, especially if the warhead was set for an airburst.

_Now._

Gamera spat out one fireball after another, his head moving back and forth. Rice's heart slammed into his chest as he watched them blaze across the sky.

Three fireballs missed far behind the missile.

_No. No. No. _Rice glanced back at Changwon. The missile was almost two miles above the city. They didn't have much time left.

More fireballs shot from Gamera's mouth. Miss. Miss. Miss. Rice felt sweat break out all over his body. Two miles and –

A fiery cloud erupted in front of him. Tendrils of sparks and flame shot out from the destroyed missile.

He let out a long, relieved breath. One down.

Five more to go.

Gamera banked further to the right and rocketed south. The plumes of the two missiles bound for Pusan stood out clearly in the night sky. Both were already plummeting toward the city.

Rice felt more energy surge through Gamera, pouring out the openings – exhausts – in his rear. A sharp crack filled the air around them. For a split-second, Rice worried one of the missiles had detonated. Then he realized the turtle had set off a sonic boom.

They closed with the missiles. Again Gamera belched out fireballs, his head moving left to right, up and down.

One of the missiles exploded.

Gamera continued to unleash a barrage of fireballs.

The second missile exploded.

Rice pulled out of his link with Gamera. He found himself back on Mount Bulmo, staring at the feed from NORAD. The remaining three missiles continued their path over the Sea of Japan. A projected target was listed beneath two of them.

Tokyo.

He checked the last track. It headed further north, toward Hokkaido. Could its target be Sapporo, the capital of that prefecture?

"Soto. I'm going after the Tokyo missiles. Sing out the moment NORAD confirms a target for that last missile."

"Yes, Sir."

Gamera retracted his head and forearms. Flames burst from all his exhausts. He spun around in what many called "flying saucer mode" and blazed across the sky, headed east. A trail of sonic booms erupted above the Sea of Japan. Rice gritted his teeth. Despite Gamera's constant spinning, he could still focus straight ahead. Rice had no idea how that was possible. Right now he didn't care.

The sonic booms continued. My God, how fast were they going? Mach Two? Mach Three? As fast as an SR-71 Blackbird? Even faster?

Whatever their speed, it didn't take long for the western coast of Japan to come into view.

In the distance, he spotted the exhausts of the missiles headed for Tokyo.

_Faster._

His entire body tensed. Or could that be Gamera's body, straining from flying far beyond the speed of sound. How long could he keep it up?

_However long it takes._

The missiles drew closer. Gamera stopped spinning, his head and forearms emerging as they switched to conventional flight mode. To the east a mass of lights stretched across the horizon.

It had to be Tokyo. Had the civil defense people warned them about the inbound missiles? Were the residents taking shelter? Were they panicking?

Gamera launched a spread of fireballs. All of them missed their targets.

Rice clenched his fists, willing more energy into Gamera's "engines."

The missiles grew steadily larger as they descended toward the great metropolis.

Another barrage of fireballs streaked through the sky. One of the missiles exploded, fiery debris raining down to the ground.

The other missile barreled toward Tokyo.

More fireballs shot from Gamera's mouth. All of them missed. Rice wanted to shout out a curse. He stifled it. Getting mad wouldn't stop this missile.

Gamera launched more fireballs.

The second missile exploded.

"Yes!" He felt himself pump his fist.

"Sir," a distant voice called to him. "Sir."

Rice felt his forehead scrunch. Who was that? The voice sounded familiar.

"Sir!" This time it sounded like someone shouted in his ear.

Rice found himself back on Mount Bulmo, Soto staring at him.

"What!"

"I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes. Man, you were zoned out."

"Sorry. What is it?"

"It's the last missile. NORAD confirmed its target. It's Anchorage."

Soto's words hit him like a blow to the gut. For a second, he didn't believe it. A nuke actually headed for his country? This wasn't some Tom Clancy or Dale Brown novel. This was real! An honest-to-God nuclear missile was going to hit US soil.

_Not if I can help it._

Rice checked the missile track. It was currently over the Kuril Islands, headed northeast.

He jumped back into Gamera's consciousness.

_Step on it, buddy! We've got one more missile to take out._

_I am weakening._

Rice's jaw clenched. He'd been afraid of this. As big and powerful as Gamera was, there had to be a limit on how long he could continue flying at these great speeds.

He thought of Anchorage, of the 300,000 people who lived there. He thought of the little bastard in Pyongyang who ordered that missile launched at his country.

_We can rest later. Right now we've got a job to do._

There was a pause. Rice feared Gamera would tell him no.

The fear, it turned out, was unfounded.

_We will do it._

Gamera went back to flying saucer mode. Patches of light below from Japanese cities passed by in a blur. Soon they found themselves above the Pacific Ocean.

Rice felt his eyes begin to burn and his eyelids grow heavy. Gamera's fatigue started to affect him.

_So what? Just like Hell Week. _He thought back to that part of BUD/S in which the sadistic instructors subjected him and the other trainees to constant running and swimming and all sorts of other physical activity. Most days they operated on two or three hours of sleep, if they were lucky. Half the time he'd been dead on his feet.

But he made it through. He'd make it through this time as well.

_Push through it. Ignore the fatigue. The mind is more powerful than the body._

Rice felt a bump within his body. Did Gamera just increase his speed?

Silhouettes of tiny bumps stuck out in the distance. Could those be the Aleutian Islands?

There! He spotted the plume from the last missile. It had to be one of those Taepodong-2s. They were the only missiles North Korea had with a range of more than 3,000 miles. They also had a reputation for being very inaccurate. Even if Gamera couldn't shoot it down, it would probably fall into the sea instead of hitting Anchorage.

_Yeah, like I really want to take that chance._

Rice's eyes locked on the missile. When he felt it was close enough, he had Gamera switch to conventional flight mode. Half-a-dozen fireballs shot across the sky.

_Oh no friggin' way are you hitting my country._

Gamera spat more fireballs. They didn't feel as intense as the ones back in South Korea or Japan. How many had they fired? How much of an added strain would that be on Gamera?

Rice pushed it from his mind. They wouldn't stop firing until –

One of the fireballs slammed into the missile. A brilliant orange and red flash lit up the sky.

Rice didn't cheer. Instead he felt himself fall onto his back. The other SEALs grouped around him, asking if he was all right.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." He waved them off and pushed himself up. He could feel Gamera's desire to land on the nearest island and rest. Hell, he'd like nothing more than to rest.

_We're not done yet. We still have to go back for Commander Kon._

Gamera did not respond.

_I know you're tired. I know you want to rest. But I know it's your duty to protect humanity. It's our duty. Kon and his men risked everything to knock out the signal controlling Thulgira. We owe it to them to save them._

Silence for one second. Two seconds.

_You are right. We will save them._

Gamera reverted to flying saucer mode, streaking back toward Korea as fast as possible. Rice shook off his fatigue, and Gamera's. They couldn't afford to be tired right now. Kon's life, and the lives of his SEALs, depended on it.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES: <strong>_APC – Armored Personnel Carrier_

_NORAD – North American Air Defense Command. Military command charged with protecting the airspace of the US and Canada. They can detect ballistic missile launches anywhere on the planet._


	13. Chapter 13

Rice's muscles felt leaden. He had to concentrate to keep his eyelids open. Gamera's fatigue had become his fatigue.

Yet Rice's determination to persevere became Gamera's determination. Through his link, he "saw" that the giant turtle had left behind the Japanese coast and sped over the Sea of Japan. It wouldn't be long before he reached Changwon.

Thumping rotors caught his attention. Rice looked up from behind the trees he and his men used for cover. A helicopter with a round fuselage and stubby nose settled over the clearing and descended. As soon as its skids touched the ground, Rice and the other SEALs darted out from behind the trees, running past the IR markers they set out to help guide the South Korean Huey.

They scrambled onto the chopper. Rice made for the flight deck, taking Myung-Dae with him so he could translate.

"Take us to the plain northeast of the city."

"Yes, Sir." The pilot nodded.

The Huey's engines roared louder and lifted off into the darkened sky.

Rice propped himself up against the cabin, fighting to stay awake. He looked over to the rear of the cabin, where Engle's body had been secured.

_Sorry, Stuart. _He gritted his teeth. This wasn't the first time he'd lost men in combat. Many officers through the years told him losses came with the job. How could they not, given their line of work? That still didn't make it any easier to deal with. That still didn't stop him from blaming himself. Could he have trained Engle harder, given him more advice?

_Is there really anything you could have done to prevent this?_

Logically, he knew the answer was no. Not that logic meant much when staring at a corpse that only a few hours ago had been a teammate, a friend.

It didn't take long for the Huey to fly over Changwon and land in a clearing on the alluvial plain. Rice exited the chopper with the others and scanned the area. Vehicles of all sizes and types, along with thousands of American and South Korean soldiers, were spread out along the plain. About sixty yards away he spotted a group of M-113 armored personnel carriers. Just what he needed.

He rushed over to a group of South Koreans milling near the vehicles. "Who's in charge here?" he asked, with Myung-Dae translating.

"That would be Colonel Du-Ho," answered one of the soldiers.

"I need to speak with him ASAP."

The soldier nodded and hurried off. A few minutes later a short, stocky man appeared. Rice and his SEALs saluted.

"Sir, Lieutenant Commander Jim Rice, US Navy SEALs."

Myung-Dae started to translate, but Du-Ho informed him that he could speak English."

"What is it you want, Commander?"

"Sir, we need to borrow two of your M-113s."

Du-Ho cranked an eyebrow. "Borrow two of my M-113s? You speak of them as if they were the family car."

"It's important we have them, Sir. For a rescue mission."

"It is also important that I have them should the North Koreans attack."

"With all due respect, Colonel, we have to have those vehicles."

Du-Ho's face hardened. "And whose authority do you have to make such a request?"

At that exact moment, a high-pitched whirring sound came from above. Everyone looked up as Gamera appeared overhead. The giant turtle switched to conventional flight mode and landed just beyond the alluvial plain. He stared directly at Rice and Du-Ho and let out an ear-piercing roar.

Rice turned back to the South Korean colonel and answered his question with one word. "His." He jerked a thumb in Gamera's direction to emphasize the point.

Du-Ho just stared at the turtle, the veins in his neck sticking out. He then looked to Rice. "Take whatever vehicles you want."

"Thank you, Sir." Rice tacked on a smile as he led the SEALs toward two of the M-113s. The crews of both vehicles stood in front of them, gawking at Gamera. When Rice informed them they and their M-113s were now under their control, the South Koreans looked to Du-Ho, who simply nodded.

Warthan, Candaele and Mongkut boarded one vehicle, while Rice, Myung-Dae and Soto entered the other.

"What are your orders, Sir?" asked the vehicle commander, a buck sergeant named Jin-Sang.

"I want you and the other APC to drive up to Gamera."

Jin-Sang and the driver, a young private named Kwang Ho, stared at him as though he'd lost his mind.

"Don't worry. He's not gonna hurt you. Hell, you saw what he did to Thulgira. He's on our side. Trust me."

The two Koreans exchanged hesitant looks. Rice was about to repeat the order, in a much louder tone, when Sergeant Jin-Sang turned to him. "Y-Yes, Sir."

Swallowing audibly, Kwang Ho started the engine and rolled forward. Through Gamera's eyes, Rice saw the other M-113 follow them. When both vehicles got within thirty feet of the giant turtle, he ordered them to stop.

_Okay, buddy. Carry us to Kaesong so we can get Kon and his men._

_I will do this._

Gamera bent down and clutched both M-113s. A jolt went through the APC before it suddenly lifted straight up.

"What's going on?" Kwang Ho's voice cracked.

"You're about to get drafted into the air force, Private." Rice gave him a wry grin.

"Air Force? What?" Jin-Sang braced himself against the hull. "What's going on? What are you going to do with us . . . Sir?"

"We're going to Kaesong to extract a group of Korean Navy SEALs and we need some sort of container to transport them. These APCs were the best we could come up with on short notice."

Jin-Sang said nothing. He still stared at Rice like he was crazy, but managed to nod at him. Rice figured the prospect of retrieving fellow Korean warriors mollified him.

Another jolt shook the M-113. Kwang Ho yelped and Jin-Sang held on for dear life. Gamera soon leveled out and rocketed north.

"Soto, get me Kon on the line." Nervous tension knotted his shoulders. He feared no one would be there to answer them.

Relief swelled inside him when he heard a familiar voice in the earpiece. "This is Commander Kon."

"Kon, it's Rice. All missiles have been neutralized. We're on our way to get you. We should be there in a few minutes."

A couple muffled crashes bled through the earpiece. Kon grunted. "The sooner you get here the better. The North Koreans are not happy that we have taken over their base."

"Just hang on. We'll be there soon. Rice out."

He handed the receiver back to Soto. His face muscles tightened, willing Gamera to go faster.

_There are flying machines ahead of us._

Rice jumped completely into Gamera's consciousness as a pair of arrow-shaped jets streaked past them.

"Aw crap," he groaned, more annoyed than concerned.

"What is it?" asked Myung-Dae.

"We just got buzzed by a couple MiG-21s."

"MiGs!" Kwang Ho turned to him, his boyish face ablaze with panic. "They'll shoot us down!"

"Calm down, Private. It'll take a lot more than missiles and guns to bring down Gamera." But if one of those missiles or cannon rounds struck the turtle's hands, the result could be disastrous for them or the other M-113.

He had Gamera check over his shoulder. Both MiG-21s were on their six. Both jets also fired a missile at them.

Gamera banked sharply to the right. The missiles followed. _Gotta be heat seekers, _Rice thought. And Gamera's jets gave off one big-ass heat signature.

The turtle veered left, then right. The missiles kept after him, getting closer.

"Things might get a little bumpy, guys," Rice announced.

Through Gamera, he felt more than heard both missiles explode within the plumes of flame gushing from the shell's rear. A few tiny tremors rippled through the turtle's massive body. There were no other ill effects.

Gamera banked right, increasing his speed. The MiG-21s followed, tongues of flame shooting from their engines as they went to afterburner. But the old Soviet-made jets couldn't keep up. Gamera soon got behind the MiG-21s. He spat out three fireballs, incinerating both jets.

Rice let out a satisfied grunt. "Well that was a pain in the ass."

They continued north, slowing down and descending as they neared the DMZ. Soon they passed over the blacked out, rainy cityscape of Kaesong. The Ahobiryong Mountain Range lay in front of them. The red glow of a fire could be seen in the distance. Rice's stomach lurched.

As they drew closer, the complex took form. Or rather, what was left of it. Fires, so large and intense even the rain couldn't put them out, illuminated the ravaged complex. A few miles from the base, vehicles clustered around the road. His gaze locked on them, picking out Chuch'e-Po 122mm self-propelled howitzers and BM-21 mobile rocket launchers. The guns boomed, while streaks of orange shot from the barrels of the BM-21s. Behind them sat up to four dozen BTR-60 armored personnel carriers, PT-76 light tanks, and even a few ancient T-34 tanks. Rice could guess their plan. Soften up the complex with an artillery barrage, then send in the armored cavalry to mop up the survivors.

_Change of plans, assholes._

Gamera dove at the North Korean armored brigade. Two fireballs flew out of his mouth. They struck the ground, waves of fire washing over vehicles and troops. Sparks from dozens of separate explosions burst through the firestorm.

Rice got on the radio. "Kon, this is Rice. You there?"

"I am here."

"Gamera took care of the North Korean artillery. We're just a few seconds out. We've got two M-113s to get you out on. As soon as we touch down, get your asses over here."

"We'll be ready. Out."

Gamera went vertical as they reached the complex. Through his eyes, Rice scanned the wrecked and burning base.

_Well I'll be damned. _A sense of pride welled up inside him as he realized why the North Koreans had opted to use artillery on the complex.

The smoldering wrecks of a dozen or so armored vehicles were strewn about the place, along with the bodies of numerous enemy soldiers. It appeared as though the North Koreans learned the hard way you don't mess with Navy SEALs, be they American or South Korean.

Gamera's legs emerged from his rear openings as he landed. He placed the M-113s on the ground.

"Kon, we're down!" Rice radioed the Korean SEAL. "Get out here now!"

"We're on the way."

Rice picked up his M4 and ordered Jin-Sang to lower the rear ramp. That's when Gamera spotted a pair of bulky shapes rise from behind the forest.

Rice's chest tightened. His eyes picked out the wing stubs bristling weapons and the two bubble-shaped canopies in the front.

Mi-24s, one of the most heavily armed, heavily armored helicopters in the world.

"Gamera! Take 'em out, now!"

Gamera roared and stomped forward, his footfalls creating a mini-earthquake around Rice and the others. Orange streaks from rockets and anti-tank missiles flew from the Hinds. Flames burst from their nose-mounted 12.7mm cannons.

Rice winced as he felt the barrage strike Gamera's torso. It didn't slow him down a bit. The giant turtle roared, raised its arm, and brought it down. One of the Hinds shattered into a thousand pieces. The second Hind turned and tried to get away. A fireball completely disintegrated it.

"Okay, the Hinds are taken care of," Rice announced. "Go! Go! Go!"

He led Myung-Dae and Soto out of the M-113. Warthan, Candaele and Mungkut charged out of the other one. Several figures scrambled out of a partially collapsed hangar-like structure and sprinted toward them. Rice's eyes widened when he noticed the distinct shapes of their weapons. AK assault rifles and RPG-7s

"Halt!" He brought up his rifle.

"It's me, Commander Kon. Your parents named you Jim so you would bear the same name as the famous Red Sox baseball player."

Rice smiled. Yup, that was Kon and his team. Rice figured they must have run out of ammo for their own weapons and raided the armory for North Korean weapons.

"Let's go! Let's go!" He and his SEALs scanned the perimeter as Kon's men hurried past. One man he recognized from his previous cross-training, a petty officer named In-Su, hurried up to him, pushing along a middle-aged, paunchy man whose hands were bound behind him by duct tape.

_That's gotta be Barznav. _Rice's eyes narrowed at the Latvian scientist. He fought the urge to put a bullet through that bastard's miserable head.

In-Su halted near him, looked at the M-113s, then at Gamera.

"You plan to have your turtle carry us out in those?" He sounded doubtful.

"Feel free to wait here and hail a cab if you want," Rice said.

In-Su checked around the wrecked complex. "I will take my chances with the turtle."

He started toward one of the M-113s, but Barznav resisted. The scientist's eyes fell on Rice's pendant.

"You!" He hollered in heavily-accented English. "You are the one who controls Gamera! You are the one who ruined my dreams!"

"You're breakin' my heart, pal." Rice scowled at him.

"Son of a filthy whore!" Barznav screamed. "Burn in Hell! I piss on you and all your ancestors!"

Barznav came forward and spat at Rice. A glob of sticky liquid struck him in the face. A huge smile spread across Barznav's face.

Rice wiped his cheek with the back of his hand . . . then whipped around his elbow. The point struck Barznav in the cheek. He felt and heard the crunch of bones breaking.

Barznav spun around, crying in agony.

"Get this son-of-a-bitch out of my face before I kill him!"

"Yes, Sir." In-Su shoved Barznav forward and herded him into one of the M-113s.

Rice noticed a few of Kon's SEALs carrying men over their shoulders. Some were clearly wounded. Others appeared beyond any help. He also spotted one figure that was clearly a woman carrying an AK-74. Probably one of Kon's local contacts.

"Good to see you, Commander," Kon said as he approached him.

"Same to to." They clasped one another's arms. "These all your people?"

Kon nodded, his jaw stiffening. "I lost eight SEALs. We recovered three bodies. The others . . . unfortunately, there wasn't anything to recover. The woman was the only one of our contacts to survive."

A blade of guilt cut into Rice's heart. If they'd only gotten here sooner.

He pushed down his guilt. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

"C'mon." He slapped Kon on the shoulder. "Time to get the hell outta Dodge."

The two SEAL officers hurried toward one of the M-113s. They both scanned the area, making sure no one was left behind, then went up the ramp.

"Sergeant! Close 'er up!"

"Yes, Sir." Jin-Sang raised the ramp. When they heard from the other M-113 that they were loaded and secure, Rice linked in with Gamera.

_All right, big guy. Take us home._

_With pleasure._

Gamera took to the air and headed south.

Rice leaned against the hull and slumped to his rear-end. He let out a long, relieved breath.

_Can we rest soon?_ Gamera asked.

Rice smiled. _Yeah. I think we earned it._

**XXXXX**

"Let's go! Hurry! Hurry!"

The Great Leader waved his arm, urging his family to hurry onboard the underground train. He took quick, nervous breaths as he watched his wife, his grown sons, and his two mistresses walk past him and into the compartment. Several enlisted men followed, carrying or dragging several pieces of luggage. Once everyone was on board, two of the Great Leader's bodyguards entered the train, followed by the Great Leader himself, then two more bodyguards.

"Colonel Hyun-Shik," he said to the burly chief of his security detail. "Is everyone on board?"

"Yes, Great Leader."

"Then tell the conductor get underway."

"Yes, Great Leader."

Hyun-Shik strode toward the front of the train.

Hands behind his back, the Great Leader shuffled to the set furthest away from his family and mistresses and dropped into it. He looked out at the underground station. A scowl formed on his pudgy face. He felt the bland concrete walls and platform were mocking him.

_This will be the last part of the People's Republic you will ever see._

The Great Leader faced forward, grinding his teeth. The face of his father, the Eternal President, formed in his mind's eye.

_I have failed you, father. Our country will soon cease to exist._

No! He did not fail his father. His generals and ministers failed him. Their incompetence led the People's Republic to ruin. They were the ones who convinced him to go along with Barznav's scheme.

_Why didn't anyone tell me the damn giant turtle would show up? Why didn't anyone come up with a way to stop it?_

They would pay. Before he left, the Great Leader gave the commander of the Special Purpose Forces a list of all those to be executed. They included every single member of the National Defense Commission. He even put Barznav's name on it.

"I don't care if the imperialists captured him," he had told the commander. "Find a way to get to him and kill the bastard!"

The train lurched forward. The station vanished from view, replaced by darkness. Before long the train built up speed as it headed north toward the Chinese border.

His family and mistresses chatted away far behind him. He had no idea what they were saying. He didn't care. He simply looked straight ahead, thinking about all the reports he'd received right up to the time he left for this underground train.

Following the attack on the complex outside Kaesong, Gamera had not been sighted for twenty-four hours. He thought perhaps the damn monster had abandoned the imperialists, that he still had a chance to salvage a victory.

The Great Leader ordered all his forces in the South to converge on Pusan, annihilating everything in their path. He also dispatched every remaining ship in the Eastern Fleet to Japan, with orders to attack any coastal city they came across until they ran out of ammunition.

The lead elements of the ground forces got within thirty miles of Pusan when Gamera reappeared. Division after division, corps after corps, was wiped out by a storm of fireballs. As for the Eastern Fleet, not a single ship got close to the Japanese mainland. The Maritime Self-Defense Force sent sixty vessels of the People's Navy to the bottom. The Japanese, meanwhile, did not suffer any losses.

Fury built up inside him. Fury at his military, his ministers, his government functionaries, even at the citizens of the People's Republic. They did not put all their heart, all their effort, into forging an undefeatable nation. They had failed him.

_Let them all burn then, damn them!_

The Great Leader pressed his back into his seat. He washed his hands of his people, of his entire nation. They did not deserve a leader like him. The South Koreans and Americans can slaughter every last one of them. And while the birds picked at their bones, he would enjoy life on his private island off the coast of Shanghai. He had bought it from the Chinese several years ago, as insurance in case something catastrophic happened and he needed to flee the People's Republic.

_Like the people failing to do their duty and win a war._

For the first time in nearly two days, the Great Leader allowed himself a smile. His thoughts turned to his private island. It boasted two mansions, three Olympic-sized swimming pools, a small but modern hospital and a 200-seat movie theater. He also had an arrangement with the Chinese government to provide him with his own private security force, along with the best prostitutes Shanghai had to offer. He'd also never have to worry about money, not with over 700 million dollars stashed away in numerous banks all over the world.

He may no longer rule a nation, but he at least would live out his remaining years in luxury.

"Great Leader." Colonel Hyun-Shik approached. "I have just been contacted by the Chinese Foreign Ministry. They say they will have a representative meet us at the station in Ji'an."

"Good, good. Thank you, Colonel."

The Great Leader sat up straighter. The defeat of the People's Republic drifted further from his mind. Instead he thought about watching movies and laying on the beach while beautiful Chinese prostitutes serviced him.

The train slowed to a stop. He looked out the window and saw forests on either side. A short man with a wrinkled face and wearing a dark suit stood on the platform, along with four soldiers carrying compact QBZ-95 rifles. Bodyguards, he assumed.

The Great Leader stepped out of the train with Hyun-Shik and his bodyguards and approached the small Chinese delegation.

"Great Leader." The Chinese official bowed. "I am Han Shou, an aide to the Deputy Foreign Minister of Asian/Pacific Affairs."

"Greetings. I thank you for your hospitality. Now, I wish to go to my island. Where is the nearest airport?"

"I'm sorry, Great Leader, but you will not be going to your island. There has been a change in the arrangement between you and my government."

The Great Leader's face twisted in anger and confusion, while his bodyguards exchanged perplexed looks.

"What do you mean a change? I paid your government for that island. It is mine. Now take me to it."

Shou's face remained impassive. "I am sorry, Great Leader. I cannot do that."

"Yes you can do that!" The Great Leader took a step forward.

The Chinese soldiers tensed. So did the North Korean bodyguards.

"I demand to talk to your Foreign Minister! No! I demand to talk to your President! This is inexcusable. I will see you punished for this."

The threat did nothing to faze Shou. "My orders come directly from the President."

"Explain yourself!"

"Very well. You see, there is a certain image China must present to the world if we are to maintain our standing as a superpower. It would not be to our advantage to harbor a man who launched nuclear weapons at three different countries, threatening the lives of millions and causing environmental damage for years, even centuries, to come. The backlash against China would be tremendous. Boycotts and possible embargos could cost us billions, not to mention diminish our influence in the world. Therefore, the President has decided to rescind your agreement with him. Instead, you will be detained until such time as we can make arrangements to turn you over to the South Korean government."

The Great Leader's head spun. He staggered backwards. This could not be. He had a deal with the Chinese. They could not renege on it. They . . . They couldn't turn him over to the imperialists. Didn't they realize those corrupt bastards would kill him?

"You . . . You cannot do this to me. You cannot!"

"I am sorry. But that is the President's decision, and -"

"Your President is a back-stabbing scum who fornicates with pigs!"

The eyes of the Chinese soldiers bulged. Even Shou reacted to the insult, as his eyebrow went up.

"You will not arrest me!" The Great Leader raged. "You will not turn me over to the imperialists! I will go to my island and no one will stop me! Guards! Kill them all!"

The North Koreans raised their Type 56 rifles. Hyun-Shik went for his pistol.

Five quick, muffled pops came from the forest. Bloody holes appeared in the heads of Hyun-Shik and the bodyguards. They collapsed onto the platform, blood and brains spattering the side of the train.

The Great Leader cried out and dropped to his knees. He covered his head with his hands as his body shook. Snipers! The bastard Chinese had snipers hidden in the woods.

"Regrettable," Shou said. "We had hoped to avoid violence, but you forced our hand. I beg you not to take any other actions that would necessitate a . . . drastic response. Guards."

The Chinese soldiers marched over. Two of them gripped the Great Leader by the arms and hoisted him to his feet.

"Get your hands off me!" He screamed and struggled, unable to break the soldiers' vice-like grip. "Release me! Release me!"

Tears streamed down the Great Leader's cheeks as the soldiers dragged him away.

_**NEXT: THE CONCLUSION**_


	14. Chapter 14

Rice pressed the binoculars against his eyes, staring out the open door of the US Army Blackhawk helicopter flying near Suwon. Tanks, APCs, self-propelled guns, trucks and other vehicles covered large stretch of field just a few miles away. The North Korean 5th Army Corps.

_You see what I see, buddy? _He communicated with Gamera.

_I see them._

_Take 'em out._

Rice shifted his binoculars to the right. A large contrail cut across the sky, diving toward the ground.

_How about we strafe them from the air first, then we'll . . ._

His brow furrowed as he looked through Gamera's eyes. "What the hell?"

"What is it, Sir?" asked Senior Chief Warthan, who knelt behind him.

Rice didn't answer. He continued staring at the North Koreans. His disbelief soon gave way to amazement.

The tanks and SPGs rotated their turrets to the rear. Several soldiers held up sticks or poles, a white sheet tied to each one.

"Oh my God. They're surrendering."

"What!" both Candaele and Soto blurted at the same time.

"They're surrendering! The bastards are surrendering! Gamera!" _Gamera, don't attack them. Do not attack them. They're surrendering._

_If that is your desire. What shall I do then?_

_Land near them and just look intimidating._

_I can do that._

Rice cranked an eyebrow. Did Gamera just make a joke?

He ordered the pilot to land near the North Koreans. When he and the other SEALs got out, Gamera stood about forty meters from the lead elements of the 5th Corps, growling as he eyed the enemy soldiers.

Rice watched as North Koreans dropped their weapons and held up their hands, aiming terrified looks at Gamera. One soldier, rather tall for a Korean at around 6'2 with a weathered face, caught sight of Rice and his SEALs. He removed the pistol from his holster, threw it on the ground, and called over one of the soldiers waving a white flag. The two walked over to them.

"Are you in charge?" Rice asked, with Myung-Dae translating.

"I am General Soo, commander of the Fifth Army Corps. I beg you to call off your monster. I formally surrender my entire command to you. We will not resist."

"Good to hear. Tell your men to move away from their vehicles and weapons and sit on the ground. Anyone does anything we don't like . . ." Rice glanced up at Gamera. "I'm sure by now you know what my pal here can do."

"I do. We will do as you say."

Soo walked back to his men, shouting out orders. They tramped away from their vehicles and fallen weapons, many staring up at Gamera as they walked.

"Soto. Tell CFC we just took the entire North Korean Fifth Corps prisoner."

"Yes, Sir." The comm specialist smiled wide. "If this doesn't earn us a medal, I don't know what will."

Rice's SEALs and Gamera watched over the North Korean. Soo was true to his word. Not a single soldier of his caused any trouble. After three hours of guard duty, the growl of numerous engines floated over the air. Rice looked toward the highway and saw a column of vehicles headed their way. Older combat vehicles. M60 tanks, M-113 APCs, even Jeeps. Definitely South Korean. Probably one of their reserve units.

Rice handed control of the prisoners over to them. He headed back to the helicopter with the other SEALs, checking over a map of the peninsula. "Let's see, last report we got, the Four Twenty-fifth Mech Corps was still positioned around Songnam, and we've got the Seventh Corps dug in near Wonju. Anyone got any preferences?"

"I say we hit the Mech Corps," Warthan said. "Let's start taking out their defenses around Seoul."

"Well, like an ROTC instructor of mine once said, never argue with a Senior Chief Petty Officer, because they're always right."

"A wise man, Sir."

Rice grinned and looked to the other SEALs. "All right. Let's hit the road to Songnam. Soto. Let CFC know where we're headed."

"Yes, Sir."

They climbed aboard the Blackhawk. Just as they lifted off, Soto turned to him. "Sir, General Taylor's on the line. He says he needs to talk to you right away."

Rice took the receiver, wondering if the Combined Forces Commander had a priority target for them. "General. This is Commander Rice."

"Commander, what's your current status?"

"We just handed over the prisoners from Fifth Corps to the South Koreans. We're on our way to Songnam to take out the Four Twenty-Fifth Mech Corps."

"Negative, Commander. Your SEALs and Gamera are ordered to stand down."

"Sir?" Rice's face scrunched in bewilderment.

"We've recently been in contact with General Ri, the Chief of the Korean People's Army General Staff. Their so-called Great Leader has left the country, and apparently ordered his Special Purpose Forces to eliminate everyone on the National Defense Commission as punishment for failing to win this war. Ri found out about it and stopped them. He's taken control of the North Korean government, and has ordered all his military forces to lay down their arms and surrender."

Rice's mouth opened, but he was too stunned to speak. He drew a breath, trying to regain his senses. "Sir, are you saying the war is over?"

Every SEAL around him looked his way, all their faces registering surprise.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm ordering a halt to all American and South Korean offensive operations effective immediately. The Japanese have already sent similar orders to their Self-Defense Forces. Gamera is not to engage in any offensive actions against North Korean forces. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You and your men return to Pusan and await further orders. Good work, all of you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Taylor out."

Rice lowered the receiver. He stared at the deck, trying to absorb what Taylor had told him.

"Is it true, Sir?" asked Mongkut. "Is the war over?"

He turned to the sniper. "That's what General Taylor said. He said the crazy Umpa-Lumpa skipped town and some big-shot general took over the country and surrendered."

No one spoke. Only the thumping rotors of the Blackhawk could be heard.

"It's over." Candaele grinned wide. "Hot digiddy damn, it's over!"

The SEALs whooped and cheered and slapped one another on the arms and backs. Many of the hardest slaps were reserve for Lieutenant Myung-Dae, whose face scrunched up, like he was about to cry. The Korean, however, held it in.

_My task here is finished._

"What?" Rice looked over his shoulder, then realized it was Gamera who "spoke."

_Thulgira is dead. Your human enemies have been defeated. It is time for me to leave._

Rice stared out the open door at Gamera, whose eyes locked on helicopter.

"Pilot. Hold your position."

"Yes, Sir."

The Blackhawk hovered. Rice and Gamera continued to stare at one another.

_I can't believe this is it. I was getting used to having you in my head, and vice versa._

_I have served my purpose, as you have served yours as my link._

_I pretty much figured this was a temporary thing. Probably just as well. No one person should control something as powerful as you._

_And that is why you were a worthy link._

Rice thumped his chest and pointed at Gamera. _Thanks for your help, buddy. We never could have done this without you._

_Nor I you. Farewell, Jim Rice_

_Take care of yourself, big guy._

Gamera lifted his head to the sky and roared. His rear jets erupted and he shot into the sky. Rice watched as the turtle climbed higher and higher.

"Where's he going, Sir?" asked Candaele.

"No idea."

"Whoa!" Soto blurted. "Check that out."

Rice looked down. His pendant glowed bright red for several seconds, then faded. He clutched the stone. It felt cold. He couldn't feel the slightest tingle of energy coming from it.

"Is, um . . . is Gamera still in your head, Sir?" asked Warthan.

A frown formed on Rice's face. "Not any more."

**XXXXX**

_Gimhae International Airport, Pusan. Two weeks later._

"The first troops of the newly formed United Nations Korean Relief Force, or KOREFOR, arrived in that war-ravaged country today," said the attractive blond anchor for FOX News. "While they will aid US and South Korean forces in security operations, their main focus will be on humanitarian relief. The recently ended war has left millions of Koreans homeless, and millions more injured and unable to receive adequate medical care as many of South Korea's major hospitals were destroyed. The first contingent of KOREFOR troops come from Australia, New Zealand, The Philippines and Thailand. Over the next few weeks, more troops will arrive from Canada, India, Brazil, Peru, Finland and twenty other countries. As the UN forces in Korea increase, they will assist in the demobilization and disarmament of the North Korean military, and aid officials from the International Atomic Energy Commission in the dismantling of what remains of the North's nuclear program. Many of their facilities were destroyed during the war by US bombers, and the six nuclear missiles they launched at South Korea, Japan and Alaska were all intercepted and shot down by Gamera."

A graphic appeared behind the anchor, showing the faces of The Great Leader and Uldis Barznav. "Officials from the Defense, State and Justice Departments met with their counterparts in South Korea and Japan to determine the best way to try North Korea's former ruler, along with Doctor Uldis Barznav, who created the technology that controlled Thulgira, and members of the National Defense Commission. They are all charged with war crimes for the deliberate murder of civilians during the Second Korean War. US Secretary of State Oldendorf says he envisions a Nuremburg Trial-like approach, in which a panel of judges from the three countries attacked by North Korea will preside over the case. Officials with the International Criminal Court say they are willing to try the case, expressing concerns that judges and lawyers from the victorious nations would not be able try the case impartially, thus denying North Korea's leaders their right to a fair trial."

Rice emitted a snorting, humorless laugh as he watched the TV in the lounge. "Nice to know there's someone out there who cares about the rights of a bunch of slimebags who slaughtered millions."

Warthan grunted. "Some people are just too nice for their own damn good."

"Yeah," Candaele chimed in. "They shoulda done to them what the Romanians did to their dictator back in the Eighties. Quick trial, convict him, then take him out back and shoot him."

"Works for me," Rice said.

A short, young female airman walked over to them. "Excuse me, Commander. Your plane is ready to take off. Please follow me."

Rice smiled and jumped to his feet. "You got it, Airman."

Excitement and anticipation swelled inside him as he and his SEALs followed the airman through the terminal. By tomorrow, he'd be back in the United States, alive and in one piece. He'd see Rita. Heat surged through him as he imagined her face, her body, and them in bed together, for hours and hours. Maybe days and days.

They just stepped out on the tarmac when he noticed two familiar people in combat fatigues. Lieutenant Myung-Dae and Commander Kon.

"We heard you were heading back to America," Kon said.

"Yup. Our job's done here." Rice bit his lip. "I guess your jobs are just starting. You got a lot of work to do to put this country back together."

"We rebuilt after the first war. We can do it again," Myung-Dae said with utmost confidence.

"And it looks like we will have a bigger country than before," Kon added. "The President hopes that by this time next year, reunification will become a reality."

Rice smiled. He liked the sound of that. No more DMZ. No more threat of North Korean nukes. For the first time in more than 60 years, there would be peace on the Korean peninsula.

"Well, when that happens, I hope we can come back here and cross-train with you guys again."

"I look forward to that," Kon said.

The SEALs all shook hands, with Rice telling Myung-Dae, "Nice working with you, Lieutenant. You did good work."

"Thank you, Sir. Hopefully we work together again."

With a final farewell, Rice and his SEALs boarded their waiting C-17 transport.

"Next stop," Candaele declared. "The good ol' US of A."

The SEALs cheered as they went up the ramp.

Fifteen minutes later, they were airborne. They spent the flight talking about their plans when they got back to The States, or playing cards, or reading paperbacks, or eating from an MRE. Damn, but Rice was sick of the things. When he got back to San Diego, he planned to take Rita to some nice restaurant, have himself a big-ass steak, a big-ass baked potato with sour cream and butter, a big-ass slice of All-American apple pie, and wash it down with a big-ass mug of beer.

_I wish this friggin' crate would go faster._

They had a layover in Guam before continuing on to Hawaii. The SEALs slept most of the time, being awakened when it was time for their meal. Another friggin' MRE.

They refueled in Hawaii, then winged their way east toward the Continental United States. When one of the C-17 crewmen came by with more MREs, Rice was sorely tempted to shoot the guy.

At 1640 local time, they touched down at Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego. Finally, they were home.

"Hello, America!" Candaele dropped to his knees and kissed the tarmac. "Oh, how I missed you, baby."

He looked up at the other SEALs, most of whom snickered at him.

"C'mon. You know you wanna do it."

"You can kiss that dirty asphalt all you want, Candaele," said Rice. "Me, I'm gonna go home and kiss my wife . . . a lot."

The others hooted and hollered.

"Yeah." Soto strutted proudly. "I got plenty of _senoritas_ around here who need some kissing from yours truly."

"Yeah, right." Warthan scoffed. "The only _senoritas_ you're gonna be with tonight are Rosie Palm and her five sisters."

The SEALs laughed out loud. Soto flipped them off.

They got into a couple Humvees and drove to Coronado, where they turned in their weapons and gear. When they left the armory, a bald, solidly-built man stood waiting for them.

"Welcome back, men. Good job over there."

"Thank you, Sir," Rice said to Captain Alec Marshall, the CO of SEAL Team Three.

"You still have a couple more debriefings to go through, but we can put that off until tomorrow. After that, you're all getting a month's leave."

The SEALs cheered, high-fiving each other and thanking Captain Marshall.

"You're all free to go home, except you, Commander."

"What do you need me for, Sir?"

Marshall frowned. "Not me. Them." He jerked a thumb to his right.

Rice turned. He saw a black government-issue sedan parked by the curb. Two unsmiling men wearing dark suits and sunglasses stood next to the car.

"Who are those stiffs?"

"No one." The skin around Marshall's nose crinkled. "They don't officially exist."

Rice groaned, his shoulders sagging. _Just what I need after a long friggin' flight._

"Watch your ass with them, Jim," Marshall warned.

"Yes, Sir."

He trudged over to the car, wondering who the men worked for. CIA? NSA? DIA? Some alphabet soup agency no one was supposed to know about?

"You wanna see me?"

"Are you Commander Jim Rice?" asked the taller of the two.

"Yeah. Who are you?"

"We're from the Department of Defense."

_Yeah, and I'm the drummer for Dropkick Murphys._

"Come with us." The tall man opened the car door.

Rice let out an annoyed sighed and got in. They drove to the base-housing area in silence. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two suits. The tall man, who drove, looked like he wore a toupee. His partner had a stocky build and wide face with protruding lips that reminded him of chimpanzee.

_Rug and Chimp. That's what I'll call you guys._

They escorted him to a Bachelor Officers' Quarters that was currently unoccupied. In the living room a table had been set up with a polygraph operated by a plump, middle-age woman with a sagging face and her brown-gray hair tied in a tight bun. She kind of reminded Rice of the woman who ran the cafeteria at his old middle school.

_Lunch Lady._

Two other suits stood by the doorway of the bedroom.

"I need your pendant," Rug demanded.

Rice scowled at him, then removed it from around his neck. "I better get that back. That's a gift from my wife."

Rug didn't acknowledge his request. Instead he handed it to one of the suits, who disappeared into the bedroom with his partner.

"Sit down," Rug ordered him.

"What's this about?"

"We want to ask you some questions about your mission in Korea. Sit."

Rice plopped down in the metal folding chair next to the table. Lunch Lady attached all sorts of wires to him.

"Now, I need to set a baseline for the polygraph," she told him. "Please answer the first two questions truthfully, and the third question false. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." He slouched in the chair.

"Is your name Lieutenant Commander James Edward Rice?"

"Yes."

"Do you currently serve with the United States Navy's SEAL Team Three?"

"Yes."

"Were you born in Providence, Rhode Island?"

"No."

Lunch Lady stared at her computer screen, then shifted her eyes to him. "Good. We can begin. Now, did your unit take part in the Second Korean War?"

"Yes."

"During that time, did you control the monster known as Gamera?"

"Yes . . . well, yes and no."

Lunch Lady looked up, frowning. "Commander Rice, just answer yes or no to the question."

"Sorry, but that's not really a yes or no question."

"Either you controlled Gamera or you didn't. Now answer the question."

"I didn't control Gamera. We . . . worked together is the best way I can describe it. We shared each other's thoughts, we shared each other's strength. But I didn't control him like, say, some tech weenie controls a Predator drone."

"Okay." Rug strode over to him, looking unhappier than before. "You don't want to answer yes or no to that question, then how about this one? Did you, at any time you controlled Gamera, have a desire to use it against the United States Government?"

"What? Are you for real?"

"Answer the question."

"Of course I didn't, you schmuck."

Rug turned to Lunch Lady. She shook her head and looked up at him. "His readings did spike, but that could be because he's angry."

"You're damn right I'm angry." Rice scowled at her.

"Or maybe he is lying." Rug stood in front of him, arms folded. "Maybe he did think about using a giant fire-breathing turtle to overthrow the government. Who wouldn't? We all saw what Gamera did. Spit out a couple fireballs, and an entire North Korean army division is incinerated. That kind of power would go to anyone's head."

"Not mine."

"Well maybe you're just biding your time. Maybe you sent Gamera away, told him to lie low, let this war fade from the public's mind before you called him back to take over the country. Is that your plan?"

"No."

Rug glanced over at Lunch Lady, who said. "All indications are it is a truthful response."

The corner of Rug's mouth twitched. He turned back to Rice. "Have you had any contact with Gamera since the war ended?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"My link with him was broken when the war ended. He served his purpose, that's what he told me."

"Gamera told you this? You two actually talked to one another?"

"Yes, through some sort of telepathy."

Rug looked to Lunch Lady, who nodded. His face stiffened before he turned back to Rice.

"The machine says you're telling the truth. But we know these things can be fooled." Rug leaned down, his face less than a foot from Rice's. He could smell the guy's after shave. "I know SEALs are trained to control their emotions, their breathing, their heart rate. To remain calm when all hell's breaking loose. Or maybe you're getting mad to throw off our readings. Because to be honest, I can't believe that anyone who controls a monster as powerful as Gamera would not consider, even for a fleeting second, using that thing to take over not just the country, but the world. You expect me to believe you're some kind of altruistic hero straight out of a comic book? You expect me to believe you're that selfless?"

Rug shoved his face closer to Rice's. "I want to know every thought you had when you were controlling Gamera. I want to know how that little necklace of yours works, and I want to know how we can use it to defend this country in case Gamera or some other monster attacks us. And we're not leaving here until I get the answers I want." Rug jabbed a finger into Rice's chest. "Are we clear, Comma-"

Rice left arm shot out, yanking the wires connected to it. He grabbed Rug by the balls and twisted. The asshole gasped, his mouth wide open.

Chimp rushed over. Rice's right elbow rammed into the man's gut. He crumpled to the floor.

Lunch Lady looked on with fearful, bulging eyes.

Rice twisted Rug's balls harder. His face turned bright red.

"Listen, peckerhead," Rice spoke in a low, menacing tone. "I don't like people shouting in my face, I don't like people poking me in the chest, I don't like people questioning my loyalty to this country, and I sure as hell don't like you. Now here's the summary of what happened to me in Korea, so listen good, because I'm only gonna say this once. My pendant linked me with Gamera. We worked together to kill Thulgira, shoot down six nuclear missiles that threatened millions of people, and incinerate half the North Korean Army before they surrendered. My link with Gamera ended, he flew away, I haven't heard from him since, I don't expect to, and that is that. Got it?" He swung his head toward Lunch Lady. "Got it?"  
>She checked her screen, then looked up. "H-He's telling the truth."<p>

Rice let go of Rug's balls. He collapsed to his knees just as the other suits emerged from the bedroom. They gave Rug, and Rice, curious looks. One of them said, "We, um, examined the pendant. There's absolutely no trace of any energy whatsoever. It's just an ordinary stone."

"It's not an ordinary stone." Rice yanked out the wires connected to the polygraph. "It's a good luck charm from my wife."

He stomped over and snatched the pendant from the suit's hand. Neither he nor his partner made a move to stop him as he headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder at Rug, who was still on his knees.

"We're done here."

"Yeah," Rug replied in a strained voice.

Rice exited the BOQ and looked around the area to get his bearings. His and Rita's house was roughly two-and-a-half miles to the west.

_Guess I'm hoofin' it._

He set off down the sidewalk, hanging the pendant around his neck. He clutched the hook-shaped stone between his thumb and index finger, smiling as he stared at it. An image of Rita's face materialized in his mind's eye. He smiled wider.

_You were right, babe. This thing really did bring us good luck._

**THE END**


End file.
